Deep
by ML Only
Summary: CHAPTER 15 now posted. Logan offers to accompany Max on a camping trip when an unexpected message is delivered to her from Zack. Set between Cold Comfort and Blah Blah Woof Woof.
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:** This is a short story in answer to a Cape Haven Group writer's challenge. The challenge was that the story had to be set in season one, Max and Logan go camping, and true to season one – non shippy.

Special thanks as always to Alaidh for the beta. I have to admit I've tweaked this chapter a little more since Alaidh gave it to me – therefore, any mistakes should be contributed to me!

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CHAPTER ONE

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"Two more sets with that weight oughtta do it," Bling told Logan as he grabbed one of the lighter weights Logan had been using and replaced it on the stand.

"Boy, just two? Hope you're not goin' soft on me," Logan queried sarcastically as he gritted his teeth and bent his elbow upward, pulling the weight toward his shoulder with a controlled movement.

Bling grinned a little at the grumbling undertone. "Thought you were the one who came to me and said you needed more strength in your arms."

"That was before I found out how much hard work it was gonna be," grunted Logan as his thoughts went back to the conversation he'd had with Bling in the car as they drove home from the Steinlitz ten days ago.

He'd been given quite an amount of time to contemplate life, the universe and everything after Max had left him stranded on the bed strewn with broken glass from the shattered window. Initially, he'd simply stared after her for some time once the door had closed behind her shapely figure, feeling kind of numb.

_Had that just really happened?_ he wondered blankly as his mind tried to catch up with the wild events of the last few minutes. Had he really just been dumped off the roof of Seattle's finest hotel only to look up and see Max as some sort of avenging angel swooping down to rescue him?

_On second thought, make that an avenging, decidedly pissed off angel,_ he amended, as he remembered how out-and-out furious she'd been with him. He was still vaguely aware of the spot where she'd thumped him. _Some hero, Logan_, he thought wryly. _You go in there to rescue her and end up being rescued yourself._

_Now **that's** what I'd call whack_, he muttered, using one of Max's expressions with feeling.

As the enormity of what had almost eventuated hit him, he let himself fall back limply amongst the glass fragments and exhaled a very long, thoughtful whoosh of relief. He hadn't enjoyed the feeling of helplessness as they'd pushed him towards the parapet, but he certainly hadn't been about to beg. He'd figured it wouldn't do much good, anyway. His only attempt at postponing the inevitable had earned himself a painful blow to the hand.

_Weird the things that come to mind at a time like that_. _What happened to the 'life flashing before your eyes' scenario? _Instead, clear as a bell, he'd seen in his mind an admittedly tipsy Val giggling as she watched him towel himself dry after a swim. She'd accused him of having skinny arms - _like chicken legs, _she'd laughed, warming to her theme. His masculine ego had taken it quite badly at the time as he remembered.

This had been the first time he'd put himself in actual physical danger since Bruno Anselmo's handiwork and while in hindsight he was pleased with the way he'd faced it – at least the loss of the use of his legs hadn't resulted in a loss of bravado - he found the circumstance had left him with a sobering thought; as he lay on the bed, the stark realization hit him just how important his arms were to him now, not merely for day-to-day living. He wouldn't say he actively sought out danger as Eyes Only, but it was definitely included in the job description.

_Guess I either need a faster chair or stronger arms, _was his final conclusion.

So it was, with the enthusiasm of one newly converted, he'd broached the subject with Bling in the car that night once they'd dropped Jude off.

"Bling. I need to build up my arms more."

This was a new, but not unwelcome change for Bling - prior to that his only obsession had been the work on his legs.

Now, ten days later, Logan's grumbling brought a wry twisted smile to the even-tempered therapist's face.

"I was wondering how long it would be before your ardour cooled a little," Bling remarked, entirely unsurprised to find his employer wavering a little.

Logan's attitude to the necessary leg and arm reps had, at the start, been all impatience and eagerness to see progress. Over the last few weeks, though, Bling had seen his enthusiasm slip and the reps now appeared to be either tolerated or, on grumpy days, viewed as a necessary evil that robbed him of precious minutes that could have been used on Eyes Only pursuits.

Logan threw him a dark look then continued to count each repetition under his breath.

Bling merely grinned again as he looked towards the living room windows. It took more than a black look from Logan to throw him.

"Nearly night out already," he remarked, as he flicked a switch to add some extra light to the rapidly darkening apartment.

For a moment, Bling stood in front of Logan, muscular arms bent, hands resting on a lean waist as he watched Logan strain with the weight. Logan's jaw muscles were clenched and beads of perspiration dotted his face, but it was obvious to Bling that his thoughts were miles away. _So what else was new?_

"D'you think I've got skinny arms?" Logan asked his trainer abruptly.

Bling smiled a little at the question from left field. "Well, they're beginning t'get somewhere," he answered diplomatically. "I don't think I'd say skinny…exactly. They've still got a way to go of course," he enlarged tactfully before counting down the last few reps of Logan's set. "Okay, you're done. Rest up a bit."

Bling took the weight from him and placed it back in its stand while Logan grabbed the white towel at his side and ran it across his face. His arms burned and felt a little numb with strain from the taxing workout.

"I could do with some tea. You up for some?" Bling offered.

Logan considered the offer and about ten other matters that were clamouring for precedence in his mind as he alternately flexed each arm while maintaining his balance with the other.

"Tonight'd be good," Bling hinted humorously.

"Sorry. Tea sounds fine," Logan replied, still sounding a little distracted.

He was in the process of one-handedly slipping his glasses back on when his front door opened and a now increasingly familiar visitor to his apartment stepped in unannounced.

She didn't approach with one of her usual sassy comments - instead Logan looked up to find her unusually preoccupied. She held an envelope in one hand, and her other hand held a slip of paper that she was intently perusing.

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her. Something in her attitude told him the content of the note was not good news.

"How whack is that!" Max finally muttered, looking across at him with a puzzled expression. "When I came in, your security guy downstairs handed me this." As she spoke she held out the note for Logan to take.

Frowning slightly, Logan put his towel down and took the sheet of paper. The terse message read: _Dawn. Murchison Woods. Saturday. Zack._

"He's not exactly the chatty type, is he?" Logan remarked with raised brows. "Any idea what it means?"

"Guess he wants to meet," she shrugged.

"That bit I got. It's the _why_ I'm interested in."

"Well, I'll find that out when I see him," she told him in a decisive, matter-of-fact manner.

"How can you be sure this is even from Zack?" Logan passed her back the note before he edged his way to end of the table.

"On accountta him being the only one who knows I hang out here. Do you know this Murchison Woods?"

Logan hesitated a moment before answering. "It's up in the mountains, north east of here. As I remember it was the site of a homestead owned by the Murchison family. The whole family perished in a fire back in the 1920s."

Max grimaced a little. "Shoulda known you'd know a depressing story like that."

Logan acknowledged her interruption with a mildly aggrieved glance before he continued. "If I recall, the remaining relatives bequeathed the farm to the state as it bordered state forest anyway."

"Can you find it on a map for me?"

Logan looked at Max thoughtfully. She had that 'I've got my mind made up and there's nothing you can do to stop me' look on her face. He came to a quick decision.

"You know, Zack's timing isn't the best," he remarked as he leant down and eased himself into his chair.

Max's perfectly shaped brows rose in mute enquiry.

"Well, by the time you leave Seattle, even if you wait until the last minute before the curfew starts, you're gonna end up getting there sometime about 2 AM."

"So?" The fact didn't appear to concern her.

Logan took his time as he placed his feet on the footrest and put on his watch, considering his words carefully.

"Way I see it, that means you're gonna have at least a good four hours to fill in until dawn, maybe more."

Not waiting for her answer, Logan pressed on. "I know it doesn't bother you a whole lot, but it's gonna be pretty cold up there at night this time of year."

Max nodded the tiniest bit. He had a point. The thought of a long wait in the cold didn't hold a great allure for her, but her agile brain was already formulating another plan. "Gives me a good excuse for a little trail blazing," she ad-libbed glibly.

"Four hours of trail blazing? You run out of gas up there and you'll be unlikely to find a place to fill up."

Logan had her attention now. She glowered a little. "Damn."

Suddenly the expressive dark eyes turned full onto Logan. "You got a plan?" she asked suspiciously.

Logan fought back a sudden feeling of self-consciousness.

"Why don't we use my car?" he suggested, risking a quick glance in her direction.

"You wanna sit around in your car for four hours?" She sounded decidedly sceptical.

"No," Logan informed her almost pedantically, "we use my _camping __gear_. Then at least you'll have some shelter while you wait."

He braced himself for one of her witticisms.

"You wanna leave _all this_ and go camping out in the woods in the middle of nowhere on a freezing cold night with me?" Max asked incredulously, waving an expressive hand about his luxurious apartment.

"Well, it'll only be for one night. Right?"

"Riiight," she agreed cautiously.

"Gives me a good excuse to break out my camping gear. The stuff's probably rotting in a cupboard somewhere." He smiled temptingly at her.

"Right," she agreed again, this time in accord as a slow smile made the corners of her mouth turn up.

Logan pressed on while he held the upper hand. "So, why don't you go home and get the stuff you'll need, and I'll get Bling t'help me pack the car."

"Okay," agreed Max, still feeling a little surprised by this turn of events. She looked at her watch. "I should be back in about an hour," she told Logan as she headed back to the door she'd so recently entered. As she put her hand on the doorknob, she suddenly turned back to him. "Are you sure about this?"

"Sure," he nodded, hoping he sounded upbeat.

She returned his answer with a quick grin and in the next instant was out the door.

"Murchison Woods," murmured a voice behind Logan, as soon as the door closed. "Isn't that the place where…?"

"That's the one," Logan agreed dryly, cutting him off before he could say more. As if to signify that that part of the conversation was closed, he swung his chair around and headed towards the large closet near his kitchen. "You remember where we put my camping gear?"

"I woulda thought you would've tried to talk her _outta_ going," Bling commented as he watched Logan open the closet door and peer inside.

"Well, Max isn't exactly the type of girl you try to talk outta doing things, unless you feel like wasting some good breath. Did you put my camp stove on that shelf up there?" he added, rolling back a little to see up high.

Bling gave Logan a long look, but finally stepped forward, albeit with a dissatisfied air. _Max wasn't the only one around here who you could waste good breath on_, he thought dryly as he set to. He soon had a pile of equipment laid out on one of the kitchen counters.

"We left the tent in your storage cupboard in the basement," Bling remarked as Logan checked the gear on the counter.

"Right," Logan agreed a little absently as he tried to think of anything else that could be missing. "This look like all of it to you?"

"You know if all this stuff still works?" Bling asked instead. "Seems like it'd be a good idea if we checked through some o' this. Doesn't look like it's been used in a while," he added with a shrewd glance at Logan.

"It's been a little while," Logan agreed, not willing to admit he couldn't remember the last time he'd had it all out as he watched Bling connect the stove to the small gas cylinder. His work as Eyes Only hardly left him time for camping holidays even before the chair.

"Well, your stove's okay," Bling told him as a ring of flame erupted on the cook top. "Let me check the lantern."

Logan watched a little tensely while Bling methodically checked through it all. Now that he had Max agreeing to his plan, he didn't want to find out that what he'd remembered as pristine camping equipment was in fact broken down and useless.

"Looks like you're good to go," Bling finally announced. "If you wanna grab what food you'll need, I'll load this stuff and the tent into the car for you."

Feeling decidedly grateful that Bling was on hand to accomplish a task that would have taken him considerably longer to accomplish if he'd been by himself, Logan headed to the kitchen.

_You just told Max you'd go camping with her._

Logan's eyes scanned his well-stocked cupboards as he considered what items he'd need to take with him for a short trip and then contemplated what to put them in.

_You've only given yourself an hour to get ready._

A large cooler was wedged beneath the bottom shelf of a small closet in his kitchen. Logan set his brakes, then reached down to pull it out with his right hand, but it was an awkward task to perform without the ability to brace his legs. With a curse he realized yet again how many functions of his body he had taken for granted.

Frowning, he noticed the vague feeling of unease that had been hovering at the back of his mind ever since Max had left had begun to make its presence felt more keenly.

By the time Bling returned, he'd dragged the cooler out and filled it with various food items.

"You just about done with this?" Bling asked, picking the lid of the cooler up in readiness to put it on.

Logan tried to think quickly. He couldn't believe how strange, almost foreign the whole idea of camping suddenly seemed to him. He wondered what he'd been thinking.

"You don't wanna take too much stuff with you."

"I know that," Logan replied, a little too quickly.

Bling simply raised an eyebrow with something like amusement. "No need to bite."

With something like an understanding gleam in his eye, Bling watched expectantly as

Logan studied the tin of baked beans he held in his hand as if he were studying the label on a fine pre-pulse wine.

"Okay, it's been a while since I've done something like this," Logan admitted with a rush.

"And now you're wishing you'd taken the time to do those off-road treks I wanted you to try, insteada insisting that you had too much work to do."

Logan drew a deep breath. "Something like that," he muttered uncomfortably as he tossed the can of baked beans into the cooler.

Assuming Logan was finished loading the cooler, Bling put the lid on it and lifted it effortlessly onto one of the kitchen counters.

"Well, seeing as how you're in a rush, I guess I can give you my edited version."

"Which is?" prompted Logan, looking anything but grateful.

"Don't get too hot, don't get too cold, and try at all times to enjoy yourself."

"That's it?" queried Logan doubtfully.

"And it's gonna be dirty work so make sure you've got some gloves with you," he added as an afterthought.

Perceiving that Logan was far from relieved or comforted by his concise but sage advice, he added, "You're a smart guy, Logan. Just use your common sense. You're gonna find the going a bit difficult in that chair – it's not exactly an off-road model and I don't have the time to make any alterations for you."

"Right," Logan agreed, trying to sound philosophical about it all.

Bling grinned at him. "Sometimes it doesn't hurt to be thrown in the deep end. Just take it easy – don't overdo it on the rough ground – it can be damned hard on your shoulders."

"Right," echoed Logan once more, still sounding a little unconvinced as he unconsciously echoed Max's words earlier.

"Besides, you'll have Max with you. You may just hafta swallow your pride a few times and ask her for a little help."

The dark look he threw Bling that time told his trainer what he thought of that suggestion.

"It's what people normally do when they go camping together," Bling pointed out to him dryly. "Helping each other is considered to be the fun part of it."

Bling chuckled as he lifted the cooler to take it down to the car. "You didn't have any problem asking me to do this stuff for you – but then again, I guess I'm not a certain, beautiful dark-haired girl."

Logan swung around abruptly at his trainer's words. "I'm gonna go get changed and pack my bag,"

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Max wasted no time in quickly putting a few items of clothing in a bag and grabbing some toiletries.

She'd been more than a little grateful to find that Kendra was out for the evening. It would save her a lot of complicated fabricated explanations. She'd been rehearsing what she would say to Kendra on her ride back to the apartment:_ He's just a friend, Kendra… He's just keeping me company… It's not like it means anything_…

Max's thoughts brought her up short all of a sudden. She realised she'd been more concerned about explaining why she was going up into the woods with _Logan_ rather than _the reason_ she was going there in the first place.

_So just why am I going up there with Logan_? she wondered.

Her first instinct had been to say a very definite _'no'. _

Her second instinct had been to say a very definite _'no'_.

Her third instinct had been that _'no'_ would probably be the safer way to go…

_Since when did I not listen to my first instinct?_

Max shrugged a little as she pulled a blue sweater out of her drawer. She realised that she'd done the tough solo act for a lot of years now – and truth be told, it just wasn't all that much fun.

Not like it was when you had someone to share with…_and his car would be warm…and he had a tent…and he cooks better than me…and…he's kinda nice to be around…somehow…when he's not grumpy._

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_To be continued_


	2. Starry, starry night

Huge thanks to all those kind enough to review – they were inspiring as always!

Thankyou Alaidh for all your work on this chapter and for your invaluable insight into camping gleaned from your days as a Girl Guide! You obviously earned more badges than I did!

**A/N: I forgot to mention that this is set between Cold Comfort and Blah Blah Woof Woof.**

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CHAPTER TWO

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"Okay, looks to me like you're good to go," Bling said cheerfully as he watched Logan take his gun from his desk drawer and put it in the side compartment of the medium sized travel bag that sat on his lap. "And here's Max," he continued, with a smile in her direction as she came through the door.

Logan finished zipping the bag. "Hey," he remarked briefly as she waltzed into his study wearing jeans, a blue sweater and a black, short leather jacket.

"I'm ready," Max smiled with a nod towards the smallish backpack she carried in one hand.

"Great," returned Logan, trying to ignore the fact that her bag was half the size of the one on his lap. _Isn't it girls who are supposed to over-compensate when they're packing for a trip?_

"I see you got the car all packed."

"Yup. We should go – don't wanna miss the curfew," Logan added curtly, not looking in her direction.

Bling thought he saw a flash of confusion in Max's eyes as she looked at Logan, however she retorted, "Oh yeah. Gotta love that curfew," without missing a beat. "See yah," she smiled at him, turning to follow Logan.

Bling threw a slightly exasperated glance at Logan's back. "Have fun kids," was his dry comment as he saw them to the door.

Max simply replied, "Will do," with a cool, backward wave of her hand as she headed to the elevator. Logan, who had already stopped and swung around to say something to Bling, looked a little nettled by his trainer's remark, but all he said was, "You'll check…"

"…that everything's locked up here before I go," Bling second-guessed him.

Logan nodded then went to put his hands to his wheels to follow Max when he suddenly swung around again. "My laptop," he remembered.

"I'm on it," said Bling, already heading back the short distance to his study.

Logan muttered something under his breath about forgetting his own name while he impatiently rocked his chair slightly.

"You've already got your bag. I'll take this to the car," Max explained as she stepped forward and took it from Bling.

Logan simply held up a hand in a gesture of acquiescence, and headed over to the elevator.

"See you tomorrow," was Bling's parting comment as the elevator door closed, then he turned with an amused expression and headed back into Logan's apartment.

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"Show me your pass," the sector guard mumbled almost incoherently as they stopped at the final checkpoint. Beyond this one the suburbs of Seattle quickly gave way to the beleaguered countryside.

Always finding it a source of annoyance that jumped-up nobodies should hold the fate of a would-be traveller in their hand, Logan managed a polite tightening of his mouth that could have been construed as a smile as he reached up and took the pass from under his sunshade.

The guard studied it intently.

"Pity they don't teach these baboons t'read," Max murmured under her breath, loud enough for only Logan to hear.

His mouth twitched a little, but he coolly assumed a resigned expression when the guard peered at him closely.

"Isn't it a little late to be heading outta town?" he sneered suspiciously.

"Only time we could get away," Logan replied evenly as he stared through the windshield.

"So where're you headin?" was the next snappy question.

"We've got some time off. Thought we'd do some camping – maybe a little fishing," Logan explained in the same cool tone. He'd had Bling load in some lines and tackle for this very reason – he thought it would make their story all the more plausible.

Max leant forward to catch the guard's eye. "We just love the outdoors," she butted in with a flash of white teeth.

The young man nodded, trying to appear impervious to her obvious charm.

"Everything's in order isn't it officer?" she queried innocently, using her wide dark eyes to her advantage.

The young man seemed to have a little trouble concentrating at this point, but he managed to pull his eyes away from her face to look down at Logan's pass once more.

"Looks like you're free to go," he told Logan, handing him back the pass.

"Thanks," Logan replied, almost without irony, as he replaced it.

"Thank you officer," Max smiled at him from her seat, before Logan pressed the button to close the window.

"You don't think that was laying it on a little thick?" he wondered aloud to her with amusement as he gradually built up speed. He wondered how often she had to use her feminine wiles when she was doing a job for Eyes Only.

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do," was the flippant reply. "I kinda figured you'd understand that MO seeing as how it's the way you operate," she added as she considered his profile in the gloom of the car.

"Guess so," he replied easily enough, but she wondered if she'd hit a raw nerve as she noticed the slight tensing of his jaw muscles.

She had no way of knowing that her innocent comment had set off a chain reaction of troubled thoughts.

_Yep – that's exactly how I operate_. _That's what's got me stuck driving up into the mountains to pitch a tent in the middle of the night. What are the chances of me making a complete fool of myself? _Logan squinted abruptly and his left hand unconsciously tightened on the wheel as a vivid example of himself, ending up flat on his face, hit him with almost painful clarity.

_Logan, she dived off a roof for your sake, _he berated himself sarcastically whilst deftly flicking his lights to high beam. He wasn't sure if the thought made him feel any better - it just seemed to put more pressure on him_. How could he ever match **that?** Surely the very least he could do was put aside his damned insecurities and maybe try to pay her back somehow…in some way. _

The most galling part in all this, was his acute realisation that he knew it was his own fault that he was in this dilemma in the first place. Bling had been on his back for weeks trying to get him to learn some off-road skills in the chair and he'd brushed him off each time with some excuse: he was either too busy or too tired, he had an informant to meet, Matt Sung needed to see him, it was too wet, too cold, too sunny…too anything!

All Bling's warnings now rang in his ears: "You need to learn this stuff, Logan. One day you're gonna need it."

_He's probably rubbing his hands with glee, _Logan decided darkly. He was sure he'd seen an 'I told you so_' _look on Bling's face as he'd helped Logan with the camping gear.

"Watcha thinking?" Max's voice broke in on his thoughts. He hadn't realised he'd grunted with exasperation somewhere deep in his throat.

"Just stuff," was the evasive reply.

"It's a long trip – gonna be kinda boring if you go all secretive on me."

"I … ah… guess I was wondering what game Zack's playing," Logan temporised quickly.

"I've been wondering that myself. I'm hoping he's got some intel about Brin." Max's dark eyes clouded for the moment. "I wish we could've done something for her. She looked so bad…" Her voice seemed to trail off in the darkness.

"He knows where to reach you. Why wouldn't he just give you the information instead of making you come out in the dead of night?"

Max shook her head ruefully. "I dunno – it's just so _Zack_. Look how long it took him to get in contact with me – and even then he wouldn't hang around," she added a little despondently.

"I guess you get that way when you've had a life on the run," Logan commented thoughtfully, remembering another X5 not that long ago who had been determined to look out for number one.

"You know, it's not the running that gets to you – it's the loneliness," Max told him with quiet thoughtfulness.

"You think Zack's lonely?"

Max thought for a moment, then eventually let her shoulders rise and fall in an eloquent gesture of uncertainty. "I dunno," she frowned pensively. "I don't think he's_ happy_," she countered finally in a somber tone.

Logan nodded slightly as he looked out the windshield, watching his car's headlights illuminate the dilapidated road they were traveling on. _It seemed like all the roads were falling apart nowadays._

"Anyway, let's talk about something more cheerful," Max suggested with determination. "Besides, I oughtta thank Zack for wanting to meet in such an end-o'-the-earth place. It's got me outta Seattle for a while…even got you out of your apartment," she added slyly.

"I leave my apartment," Logan protested.

"Yeah – to go meet an informant…or some other Eyes Only stuff," Max replied bluntly. "Yeah, yeah!" she cut him off curtly, her tone clearly saying she'd heard it all before when she saw him open his mouth as if to defend himself, "We're not living in the café society anymore," she told him, echoing his own words back to him in a pedantic tone. "But you know it's kinda good for the soul to kick back and have a little fun once in awhile – even if you _are_ the saviour of the universe."

"I think that position's already been taken," Logan commented dryly.

Max looked across at him to see how her comments had gone down – this time she found a perverse enjoyment in the fact that he was looking a little annoyed. She waited for him to look across at her – then flashed him a cheesy smile to show that she was intentionally provoking him.

"Maybe we should put on some music," Logan hinted none too subtly.

Max made a face. That idea wasn't to her liking at all -she was feeling inquisitive. "So, you done much outdoor stuff? You know… 'Boy scouts' all that type o' thing."

She had to wait a moment for his answer.

"I used to go on camping trips with my dad," Logan told her at last, a little reluctantly.

"When he could drag you away from your computer, huh?"

"Something like that," was the non-committal reply.

"Now _Manticore, by contrast,_ was really big on the great outdoors – strictly a Spartan existence of course! No tents, mattresses, pillow…sometimes not even a blanket," she added, her mouth twisted with disgust.

"That's not Spartan…it's barbaric," Logan told her with feeling.

"No, I think it was what they called '_character building'_."

"Well, _you_ certainly have loads of_ that_."

Max suddenly went quiet as she felt her cheeks redden slightly – not quite sure what to say to his comment. She wondered if it was his idea of a compliment. She certainly _hoped _it was.

"If you'd like a Coke there's a can in the cooler between the seats," Logan went on, apparently unaware of any feeling of awkwardness on her part.

"Thanks," she answered quickly. "You want one too?" she asked as she lifted the lid. "We could stop for a few minutes. Give you a break."

"No. I'm fine. I'd rather push on and get there. We're making good time. With any luck we'll be there by around 1AM."

"Cool," she smiled as she pulled the tab on her can. "Then all we gotta do is set up camp! So, you got some fancy push-button tent or something?" she joked as she took a swig of her drink.

"I _wish_."

Max looked behind her.

Bling had put the back seat down flat, leaving a large storage area in the back of the car. Other than their bags, she could see a large cooler, two fishing poles, a tackle box, a couple of folding chairs, two rolled sleeping bags and several pillows - which brought an unexpected flush to her cheeks - and sundry other packages in nylon bags that she took to be the tent.

"Well, putting up tents is one of my specialities," she grinned.

"This one is kinda different," Logan told her as he slowed the car a little to read the faded signpost by the light of the car's beam.

"Murchison Woods thataway," Max told him, signalling to the right before he even had a chance to read it.

"I told you you'd have some super-duper European design, anti-leak, state-of-the-art, floats –on- air model," she smiled at him, going back to his comment about the tent.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but…no. Although the last point was almost correct."

He had her interest now. "Do tell," she murmured breathily.

He gave her a slightly ruffled sideways glance, not always quite sure how to take some of her more provocative comments. "It's a tent that attaches to the back of the car when you put the tailgate down and lift the hatch."

Max raised her eyebrows. "Is this one of those things the brochure says can be done in ten minutes but when you go to do it, it takes ten hours?"

"Wouldn't know. I've never set it up… I hope not!" he added with a frown as the truth of her words hit him. The thought of struggling in the dark with the contraption after a three-hour drive was hardly an exciting one.

Max appeared undaunted by the challenge. "Lucky you have your own transgenic, see-in-the-dark, tent putter-upper," she told him helpfully.

"I take it you have that on your resume?"

"Absolutely. In big, bold letters. Why else do you think Normal gave me a job?"

"Well, just in case you _should_ need a little help…" Logan motioned with his head toward the glove compartment. "I brought along the instructions."

"Spoilsport. I was kinda looking forward to seeing the great Eyes Only try and work it out by flashlight," lamented Max.

Logan raised his eyebrows and gave her a small grin of triumph. With a rush of relief he mentally thanked Bling for his forethought in finding and packing the instructions.

Max studied them in silence for a bit, then leant back in a relaxed manner, her head against the head rest as she idly watched one majestic tree after another rustle and wave leaf-laden branches at them as they passed.

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The trees were quite dense on either side of them now as the car wound its way further and further into the mountains. Max was used to travelling on her motorbike with a chill wind striking her full in the face. She found the warmth and dull interior lights of the car lent an almost surreal quality to the journey, aided by the classic rock music Logan had eventually put on as their conversation had naturally waned. He'd told her that Pearl Jam would keep him awake when she'd raised one dubious eyebrow at his selection.

Max hooked her right leg up onto the seat then leant forward and grabbed the can she'd left sitting in the drink holder. "You sure you don't want some?" she asked Logan, holding it up a little to attract his attention.

He shook his head. "It must be flat by now anyway," he commented as he stretched his arms out and shifted his body a little.

Max flexed her arms out as well in a reflex action and peered out into a night that was vaguely lit with a hint of moonlight. "We should be almost there, shouldn't we?"

Logan stifled a yawn. "Just about, I'd say."

"Unless we're locked in some sorta time warp and we drive and drive and drive and never get outta these damned trees," she murmured darkly.

"Well, I think you just got lucky," Logan told her, as the trees began to give way to other vegetation as well at this point. "And that looks like our sign."

"Yep. Murchison Woods," Max agreed as she read a still, bold sign proclaiming Murchison Woods Camping Ground.

Logan turned left and drove through a gateway another two hundred yards or so further along this road. They both noted a ranger's booth that outlined camping fees on the wall but it was deserted at this time of night. Max thought it looked like it hadn't been manned in a long time. As they got closer, even Logan could see that the windows were broken and long grass grew unhindered all around it.

"It all seems to have that delightful post-Pulse look about it that we've come to know so well," Max murmured ironically as she looked about.

"It's too bad. This used to be a beautiful place," Logan said quietly, as he slowed the car down to almost a crawl as they bumped over a dirt road, which appeared to be the only way through the park.

There was absolutely no sign of any other campers in the park.

"Looks like we get to take our pick of sites," Max remarked.

"Well, you choose. You're the see-in-the-dark expert."

They bumped down the badly potholed road, passing what looked to be a toilet block on their way. Logan could make out very little other than what the car headlights picked out, but Max was able to clearly see that it was a secluded camping ground on the banks of a river, protected from the elements by a majestic grove of trees that dotted the area.

"This place must have been really popular once," she said, her voice rich with unmistakeable admiration.

"It was," Logan confirmed. "One of the top camping sites back in the day."

"How about stopping here. Not too far from the river, sheltered by the trees…"

"Fine," Logan agreed, eager after a three hour drive to get out of the car and clear his head in the fresh air.

The river could be seen to their left – the little moonlight there was reflected silvery on its inky depths. Logan drove off the path and headed toward it, having to dodge several branches and logs before he came to a slight clearing nestled between the bend of the river.

Max had her door open and was out of the car as if she were on a spring as soon as Logan brought it to a halt. She took a good look around, unconsciously in full-alert mode until she was satisfied that they were alone.

Logan put his window down and breathed in the fresh, chill night air. The sudden quiet once he'd turned off the motor was startling.

"So, how you wanna play this?" Max asked, coming to stand by his window. Her voice sounded unnaturally loud in such pristine stillness.

He paused at her words. In truth he had no idea how he wanted to play this – it was all unchartered territory for him.

"Um…I guess we start with my chair," he suggested as he released the hatch, "then instructions?" he added, leaning across and grabbing them and a flashlight from the glove compartment.

"Cool." She headed at once to the back of the car where they'd had to stow his chair, and picked up the pieces.

While he set it up, Max did a quick circuit of the car, clearing the ground of branches and any other large sticks that would prove an obstacle for Logan. Fortunately, there were a lot of pine trees in the area – little grass grew beneath them and the dense layers of needles made a smooth cover that she hoped he'd find relatively easy to negotiate.

She'd been surprised when he'd offered to accompany her, but had accepted his suggestion at face value. It was only when she'd returned with her bag that she suspected he wasn't entirely cool with the idea. _Sooo, Logan,_ she mused as she picked up a pine cone from near the back wheel and tossed it away. She'd already had him bite her head off when she had suggested he attend the ConGen2 Convention last week and she didn't relish a repeat of the incident. _Better tread lightly,_ she told herself. She was not unsympathetic to his sensibilities – she just found him hard to read.

Logan came around the car at that moment, the instructions spread out on his knee. He'd put a thick jacket on over his sweater and wore black leather gloves.

"Hope all that stuff you said about being the world's best tent putter-upper wasn't just a bluff," he told her lightly. He'd read the instructions and a lot of them required a reach far longer than his.

"If you think I'm gonna let you sit back and watch me do all the work, you've got another thing coming," Max promised him mildly as she reached in and brought out the bag with the tent.

"Okay, we need the tailgate down," she instructed as she removed the attachment tent from its cover then moved away a little to shake it and spread it out.

Logan lowered the tailgate, then turned to watch Max.

"Okay – its all fairly simple – the attachment fits over the back of the car from just behind the sunroof, then all we gotta do is stretch it into place and clip it on."

"That simple, huh?" Logan murmured dryly.

"Didn't you even look at this stuff before you bought it?" she asked Logan with a hint of incredulity as she shook out the nylon material again to ascertain which way was 'up'.

"I didn't exactly have camping on my mind at the time," he muttered sardonically as he remembered the depressing day Bling had taken him to look at cars. It had all been about ease of transfer, rubberised grab handles and functionality rather than sleek lines, revs per minute and power of acceleration – all the things he'd _thought_ had been important in the past when buying a car. At the time, the only thing he could think of as he signed the ownership papers was _clunky car to go with a clunky chair._ He'd hardly been aware of the discussion of the merits of the camping package – he'd just waved a hand disinterestedly when Bling had said it would be a good idea. The whole car-buying episode had been the final, dismal nail in the coffin of the person he had come to regard as '_that other Logan_.'

"No big dealio," Max said hesitantly. She wondered if he'd forgotten that even in the dark she could read the expression in the depths of his green eyes.

"Okay – so…I guess I take the bottom and you take the top," Logan suggested, deciding to concentrate on the task at hand rather than things of the past that he had no way of changing.

"Right."

In a surprisingly short space of time, no doubt thanks to Max's X5 speed and agility, they had the customised tent fitted securely to the rear of the vehicle, complete with a small awning.

"Not bad," Max nodded as she considered their efforts.

"Just one more thing to do," Logan told her as he reached into the back.

"Coffee?" was the hopeful suggestion.

"Be my guest," Logan told her with a wave of his hand towards the car. The stove and cylinder were too far back for him to reach from his chair. Max clambered in instead and soon had the stove set up on a small table. They'd brought their own supply of water with them, just in case. The infrastructure of the country was so fractured that you couldn't take things like a supply of water at a remote camping ground as a fact to be relied upon.

Logan, meanwhile, set about blowing up the air mattress that came with the car and was designed to fit snugly in the rear compartment. On the left interior side of the car there was an attached hose and pressure gauge that was actually from the rear suspension automatic levelling. The designers had made use of the levelling system so that inflatable articles could be easily filled with air.

"Neat," commented Max as she saw what he was doing. She'd set up a folding chair and was now waiting for the water to boil. The gas lantern sat on the small table beside the stove, casting a warm, soft, yellow light over everything within its arc. Idly she puffed out a breath, watching the white cloud dissipate quickly into the air. Her eyes then continued skyward - there wasn't a cloud in the sky now and it was as if a curtain had been flung back to reveal a myriad of twinkling diamond lights.

Feeling a little humbled before such vastness, Max held her hands close to the stove for a moment – her prediction about the freezing cold had been correct.

Logan unfolded the mattress and spread it out. He soon saw that they'd have to rearrange the items still in the back of the Aztek for it to fit. The large cooler would definitely have to come out and unless he went to the trouble of lifting himself into the back of the car and somehow pushing it out, he wouldn't be able to do it.

He couldn't help but feel a niggling resentment that such a simple task should prove to be so difficult, but he remembered Bling's words and knew there was a certain amount of truth in them – well, maybe a lot of truth in them.

He knew it was probably illogical, but he had no hesitation in asking Max to be his legs when it was Eyes Only related, but he struggled with the whole issue when it was on a personal level. _Just what am I trying to prove here anyway_? he wondered bemusedly. _The girl could toss me across a room anytime she wants to – chair or no chair._

Logan frowned, feeling decidedly uncomfortable as he took a deep breath to steel himself before calling Max over, when suddenly he paused as a flash of inspiration hit him.

_Bling doesn't have to be right about everything._ _It's not as if I've forgotten how to handle a girl, _he reminded himself with a calculating gleam as a flicker of that other Logan flared in his eyes.

In a deliberate move he positioned his chair a little closer to the tailgate, then rustled the outspread air mattress loudly ensuring that it knocked against other objects in the back of the car, muttering, "Must be a bit stuck or something…"

Max looked across then jumped up immediately when she saw his problem. "I'll check it. We probably need to move some of this stuff out to make more room anyway."

Logan couldn't resist a small, knowing smile of satisfaction, particularly as he couldn't help but get a good view of a certain part of her anatomy as she rearranged their bags before he politely looked away. He could imagine the look on Bling's face when he got home if he were to casually say to him that he hadn't had to actually ask Max for assistance even once. This time his eyes lit at the thought of a challenge – suddenly a camping trip didn't seem quite so threatening.

Max edged forward and put the cooler and another container with plastic dishes, cutlery and other sundry utensils on the ground beneath the tailgate. Their overnight bags she'd put up against the back of the front seats because the mattress fitted near the tailgate end.

"Okay, all clear," she remarked as she jumped down. "Pity we didn't have time to light a fire tonight. It's damned cold."

"It'll be warm once we're inside," Logan answered, quickly schooling his features as he turned his head to concentrate on watching the pressure gauge as the mattress quickly filled with air. He couldn't afford to make it too soft and have his hip unknowingly sink through to the hard floor, nor, on the other hand, could it be rock firm.

Max stood by watching his progress. After a few minutes she put a hand on the air bed and pushed down. "And Little Bear said_ just right," _she quoted coyly.

"Well, if that's what Little Bear says…" Logan commented dryly as he disconnected the device and stored it away.

The water began to boil at that point so Logan wheeled forward and got out a small coffee percolator.

Max had to smile. "Now _that's_ something we never had on Manticore camping trips."

"Just cause you're in the wild doesn't mean you can't take a few comforts with you," Logan grinned. "You want something to eat with it?"

"Need you ask?"

"If you look in the cooler there should be a few muffins from the bakery there. Not exciting but it should fill a few holes," he apologised.

"Logan – if I'd come up here by myself I'd be riding around in the cold for hours, like you said," she protested. "Muffins and coffee and a warm car are a whole lot better than _that_," she added warmly.

"Well, I guess if you put it that way," he acknowledged distractedly as he waited for the coffee to brew.

To his surprise, Max suddenly stood up abruptly without a word. She was clearly in defensive mode as she stared fixedly into the darkness, unconsciously taking a protective step closer toward him. The significance of the action wasn't lost on Logan and he felt the hairs on the back of his head bristle uncomfortably. His thoughts went immediately to his gun, but it was presently well out of his reach in the back of the car.

"Max? You see something?" he whispered tensely.

Her eyes swept the area with radar-like precision.

"Max?" he prompted again when she didn't reply.

Eventually, apparently satisfied, he saw her shoulders relax and she turned to him with an unconcerned shrug. "Thought I saw someone out there for a minute. Guess I was wrong. So, where's the coffee?"

Wishing he had her ability to turn his heightened emotions off and on at will with the same consummate ease, Logan managed to answer in a reasonably calm voice, "Coming up."

In a few minutes he passed her a cup of the steaming hot coffee then took his own in his hand. He savoured the warmth by wrapping both hands around the mug as he put it to his mouth. It was hard to refrain from taking several surreptitious, cautious glances out into the darkness. In time, however, Max's own apparent ease made him relax and he concentrated on enjoying the coffee.

They ate and drank in a companionable silence, each cocooned in their own thoughts as they enjoyed the stillness of the night. Eventually Logan began to yawn and rub at his arms as he felt the chill of the night air beginning to permeate his clothes.

"I'd better call it a day," he told her, a touch apologetically.

"Yep – it's after two now, and even I'm getting a little cold sitting here," she admitted.

They both looked at each other – a similar thought in both their minds: _This could be the awkward part._

"Um…do you need to change?" Logan asked. "You can go first if you like."

"Nah, I'm not gonna bother. I've only got a few hours before it'll be time to meet Zack. I'll need to do some recon before dawn to check out a place he's most likely to be."

"Right."

"I might just stretch my legs out a bit and check out the river before you lock the door for the night," she joked, feeling a little self-conscious and wondering why. She went to head out into the night but, to his surprise, she turned back again. "Thanks…you know…for doing all this for me."

He shrugged, feeling embarrassed by her thanks. "It's not a big deal, Max."

"Um…anything else you want me to do before you turn in?" He saw the hesitation in her eyes and felt a sudden rush of guilt. He wondered what he'd said or done in the past that should make her so wary of offering him some help.

Nonetheless he answered, "Nope. I can't think of anything," blandly, as if he hadn't noticed her hesitation.

"Cool," she replied, her own smile flashing out with almost breathtaking brilliance. "I'll see you in fifteen."

Logan silently watched her progress until the shadows completely swallowed her lithe, dark form.

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"Hey, Logan. You asleep?" Max whispered some half hour later, peering into the back of the car. The sound of heavy, slow, rhythmic breathing gave her an answer.

The campsite was dark now. She noted that Logan had washed their cups and plates and stowed the food items back in the cooler. Thinking it would be easy pickings for a raccoon, Max picked it up and put it in the front of the car.

Logan was sound asleep, glasses off, lying on his stomach, head turned towards her, his arms resting on the pillow either side of his head. He'd unzipped the feather and down sleeping bag and opened it out, using it like a comforter. She assumed he couldn't be bothered reaching down to zip it up.

Firstly removing her shoes and jacket, she quietly crawled in next to him and zipped up the opening to the tent.

Logan had dismantled his chair and put it against the wall on his side. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to leave it unattended outside the tent, she thought, as she grabbed the other sleeping bag and slipped inside it. For a moment she studied Logan's still form before lying down. He was really too long for the mattress, she noticed, as she leant forward and pulled the sleeping bag he had over him further down because it had crept up a little and no longer covered his feet. Well, at least he had on thick, woolly socks.

Max suddenly grinned in the dark. She could imagine the looks on the faces of Original Cindy and Kendra if they could see her now.

Still grinning, she snuggled down in the bag, enjoying its warmth after the cold night air. She put one hand behind her head as she let her body rest.

Her eyes gazed upward – vaguely following the contours of the car's roof.

While her body rested, her mind remained active and now the question that she had purposefully held at bay for the majority of the evening consumed her thoughts:

_What reason could Zack possibly have for wanting to meet her?_

_----------------------------------------------------------------_

There was no gradual transition between sleeping and consciousness for Logan that morning.

He woke all at once, feeling strangely alert.

Somewhere he heard a bird twittering its morning carol close by.

The thought hit Logan with certainty. He didn't have to look around – he knew without doubt that he was alone in the car.

His eyes focussed a little blurrily on his watch. With a start he saw it was well after seven.

_Where the hell was Max?_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_To be continued…_


	3. The Hills Are Alive

Thank you all so much for the encouraging feedback I've received - It is greatly appreciated!

Huge thanks as always to Alaidh for her work on this chapter – we are all blessed by her betaing skills!

Sorry about the delay in this chapter – unfortunately Christmas and RL and betas going on holidays have slowed us down, but we're back on track! You may need to read the previous chapter to remember what happened!

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CHAPTER 3

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Logan reached quickly for his glasses then twisted onto his back. For a moment he stared with blank bemusement at the Aztek's roof as he slowly considered the implications of Max's absence.

He couldn't believe he hadn't woken when Max left – he'd only intended to lightly doze when he'd put his head on the pillow the previous night. He'd been determined to ensure that he heard her when she headed off to meet Zack. He rolled his eyes with chagrin as he realized he hadn't even been aware of her return to the car after her walk. The thought made him drag himself up quickly – _what if she hadn't returned the night before? _

"Okay – don't get ahead of yourself here" he murmured aloud, forcing himself to slow his thoughts and think rationally as he sat propped up on his hands.

Looking for some sign to prove her presence from last night, he checked the SUV visually. One of the first things his eyes fell on was her blue sweater, the one she'd worn on the drive up there. It had been taken off and left tossed over her backpack.

Logan breathed out thankfully. At least he could assume that she'd only left this morning. The next thing he saw was her sleeping bag tossed over the end of his own. He remembered feeling uncomfortably cold when he had first lay down and he wondered now with a frown if the extra warmth was the reason he'd fallen into such a deep sleep.

Well, it was possible she was still talking to Zack somewhere, he told himself as he threw back the sleeping bag, then felt behind his back for his clothes.

Feeling a bit foolish, he looked carefully out the window anyway, just in case there was anyone around. No eyes stared back at him, so he scooted back further until he was leaning against the driver's seat and set about taking off the fleecy sweatshirt and grey trackpants he'd slept in, and changed back into the cargo pants and sweater he'd worn the previous night.

By daylight, it was a bit strange to see the interior of his car transformed into a 'bedroom'. It was even stranger to think that he'd slept next to a beautiful girl and hadn't hit on her once. He smiled a little grimly as he thought of what Peter would have said to that – the man who'd seen Eyes Only with a string of beautiful girlfriends. _No, not girlfriends,_ he suddenly corrected himself feeling strangely guilty as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head – merely pastimes who were quickly discarded for the next glittering bauble that had been dangled in front of Logan Cale and his wealth. He felt a familiar, twinge of self-contempt. He didn't like to contemplate what his life had been before the shooting – not solely because of what he didn't have now, but because of who and what he'd been. It made him feel uncomfortable to face the truth that he'd only changed his methods where women were concerned because it had been forced upon him by circumstance rather than some monumental epoch.

Once he was dressed, he tossed his bag across to the entrance near the tailgate, then looked around for anything else he needed to leave in an accessible position once he was outside and in his chair. Jacket and gloves were tossed over next, then his shoes. He realised the next tricky part would be assembling his chair and getting it back outside again. It had been enough of a chore the previous night.

Finding it a little difficult moving on the air mattress, he managed to get to the tailgate and unzip the arched doorway.

Once having allowed his legs to dangle over the side, he reached across to pull the pieces of his chair towards him. It was the assembling of the chair itself that he was worried about – it would require the type of balance that he knew he no longer had. He wished momentarily for Bling's matter-of- fact presence – he'd have the chair assembled in moments – or a seatbelt at the tailgate would be handy, he mused wryly, to prevent him from tumbling ignobly off the edge… _what about Max's help?_

Suddenly his eyes narrowed intently as he remembered that he had no idea where she was.

Feeling more than a little annoyed, his mouth tightened with disgust as he reminded himself that this camping trip was all about _her_. _Since when did I become so self-absorbed with nothing but my own problems? _he wondered with dark bewilderment as he stared outside with unfocused eyes. _Was I always like this? Was I like this before…?_

Realising where his thoughts were running he decisively put a hand to his glasses and adjusted them, consciously making the decision to focus on the view before him. It was a world away from the one he was accustomed to seeing from his apartment's expansive windows.

The scene before him was surprisingly clear and sharp-edged with the newness of morning, the air refreshingly cold on his face after, what he now knew to be by comparison, the slight stuffiness of the car. He realised with some surprise that it had been an age since he'd experienced the vivid crispness of a new day even in the city let alone the mountains. Somehow, an early morning in Seattle just couldn't compare with the vista before him - by comparison the city's colours were muted and its outlines blurred.

With a glance at his watch and an impatient grunt, Logan set his mind back to the task at hand. Edging along a little further, he leaned against the side where the tent formed its 'doorway' and set about assembling his chair. It wasn't easy as he had to use one hand to steady himself and maintain his balance, but eventually the job was accomplished and now all he had to do was transfer. He was vaguely aware of an ever-increasing sense of unease building somewhere in his mind - the whole exercise of getting dressed and mobile seemed to be taking way too long. What was he meant to do if Max didn't return? How long should he wait before he went and looked for her?

_How the hell am I meant to look for her anway, _he wondered with considerable frustration, absently rubbing his left hand along his thigh – he could hardly drive the car in its current state.

_We should have had a contingency plan_. _What if it wasn't Zack after all – maybe it's all been some damned Manticore trap! _

Regretting his decision not to at least even _try_ and talk Max out of her plan, his mind went back to the warning he'd given her only a few nights ago when she'd sat by his window, troubled and concerned over her sister Brin's situation.

_You need to be more careful yourself, you know…'cause now Lydecker knows what you look like._

It was a truly sobering thought and the knowledge left him feeling cold and anxious and even more annoyed at himself that he hadn't heard her leave that morning.

With a grim expression, he reached across and grabbed his jacket, thankful for its warmth as he shrugged it on. The air no longer felt refreshingly cool – once he'd become accustomed to its temperature he realised it was just plain _uncomfortably_ cold.

With a feeling of relief he managed to slide down to his chair without upending himself because of the tricky angle, then once settled he released the brakes and moved forward a little to check out his surroundings and search for some sign of Max.

He wondered how accurate the old expression was that a big enough fright could take years off your life. More to the point, how big a fright and how many years, he mentally queried as he tried to school his features to make it look as though the appearance of an older man watching him from the bushes hadn't startled him in the least.

It seemed strange that he hadn't noticed him there before. _Some lookout for Max I'm proving to be, _he grimaced mentally as he watched the man approach with measured, purposeful steps. His next thought was, _why the hell didn't I take my gun out of my bag?_

Instead, Logan quickly reached into the back and pulled out his shoes, feeling irrationally unprepared for any type of confrontation with feet half undressed. After all, did James Bond get around in thick, grey, woolly, hiking socks?

Having nothing other than the shoes at hand, Logan surreptitiously gripped one tightly – _Worst comes to worst guess I can always throw one at him_, he mused with grim humour.

"Howdy there," the stranger greeted him, checking Logan out with shrewd, small grey eyes.

"Morning," Logan replied coolly as he in turn carefully considered the other man. He saw before him a tall, grey-haired man who looked to be somewhere in his late fifties, maybe older – it was hard to tell. He was dressed in jeans, solid walking boots and a heavy checked lumber jacket, but by his bearing he exuded an innate strength that spoke of a tough, disciplined life.

"Fine morning," the older man commented with an easy manner.

"_We_ didn't know there was anyone else up here." Logan spoke in the same cool manner, slightly stressing his first word. He wasn't prepared as yet to lower his guard and he didn't think it would hurt to let the other man now that he wasn't alone.

"Nope, not many camp here anymore. I take it you've heard the rumours?" The grey eyes fixed Logan with a razor-sharp stare, making him feel uneasy and very much aware of Max's absence.

"Some," Logan answered warily.

"Hardly the place for a young feller like yourself to be," the older man continued with the same assured manner as he let his gaze rest briefly on the wheelchair. "Your girlfriend about?" he added in an abrupt manner, his words taking Logan a little by surprise.

Feeling that long-winded explanations were out of place at this point, Logan didn't bother to correct the 'girlfriend' assumption, but he was definitely reluctant to admit that he was on his own to a stranger, in an isolated campground, that was the subject of strange rumours.

He was trying to decide on the best way to answer the man's question when his breath caught suddenly in his throat. To his sudden consternation the older man had taken a lethal-looking hunting knife from his pocket and proceeded to examine its well-oiled blade with keen-eyed intensity. Aware of an instinctive slight widening of his eyes and a tightening in the back of his scalp, Logan's hands dropped to his wheels in a gesture of watchful readiness.

"Sharp," the man muttered, running his thumb carefully along the blade before abruptly fixing Logan with a penetrating scrutiny that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

In the same abrupt manner, the man squatted down and picked up one of the chunky branches Max had thrown away the previous night. Very much to Logan's surprise and relief, the man broke off a few twigs and began whittling away at the gnarled wood.

Logan watched for a few moments with fascination as the length of wood began to take on another form – at this early stage Logan couldn't be sure of what it was destined to be.

"You new to that thing?" The question was accompanied by the jab of a weathered finger at his chair.

Logan felt himself stiffen once more as the question caught him off guard. He didn't like finding himself on the defensive – he knew he'd been caught on the wrong foot from the time this conversation had started and it was beginning to make him feel decidedly uneasy.

The stranger seemed to take Logan's silence as an affirmative. "Had a friend…lost both legs in the war. Shoulda seen the way he handled that chair – and it wasn't some modern, souped-up rig like you've got. Nope – no trendy rigs for the vets."

He stabbed one disparaging finger at Logan's chair then almost unconcernedly returned to his whittling, leaving Logan to wonder what war the man was referring to – the Gulf war perhaps, judging by his age? He wasn't entirely sure but one thing he was sure of was that this conversation was not getting him any closer to discovering Max's whereabouts.

Feeling as though he'd had more than enough of the other's company, let alone the aspersions cast on his wheelchair skills, Logan decided that two could play this game.

"So, you camp up here by yourself?" he asked, feigning casual indifference.

"Been coming here fer just about forty years," the stranger grunted as he stood up and stretched himself to his full height. He was definitely of a soldierly bearing – straight backed, tall and strong looking in spite of his age. "The most beautiful spot in the state o' Washington."

All of a sudden, he stepped forward with an intimidating gesture, until he was towering over Logan, forcing Logan to tilt his head well back to maintain eye contact.

Logan was resisting the temptation to wheel back and put as much distance as possible between the guy and himself when he realised the man's action had not been a threatening one but rather a hospitable one.

"The name's Tex."

Logan started breathing again as the man thrust a large hand in front of him.

"Logan," he replied smoothly as he shook the proffered hand, masking his feeling of relief.

"Better get your shoes on, boy. It's damned cold up here till the sun climbs high enough to shed a bit o' warmth."

Logan was a little taken aback by the remark, but before he had a chance to reply, Tex turned abruptly, waved, and strode off rapidly along the river bank, where his figure was quickly obscured by the dense growth that lined the waterway.

"Hey!"

This time Logan's shoulders jerked noticeably and he felt as if his heart had jumped out of his chest.

He took a deep breath before he got out, "_Where were you?"_ He was clearly annoyed to find her standing casually before him as if she'd just returned from a short stroll.

Her fine brows rose in surprise. "I went to meet Zack, of course." Her eyes went to his feet, still only clad in their woolly socks. "You should put your shoes on," she suggested helpfully. "It's cold up here in the morning."

"And?" he prompted sharply, hostility still evident in his voice as he reached down to pull on one of his shoes, wondering irritably why everyone should be so concerned about his feet all of a sudden.

"He was a no-show."

"What does that mean?" he asked, looking up at her in confusion as he slipped his other shoe on.

Max shrugged as she lit the stove. "It _means_ that he wasn't there," she enlarged patiently.

"I know what no-show _means_! What I meant was…_why?_ He couldn't get here? It was some kinda stunt…?" Then more firmly, "Maybe the message wasn't even from Zack?"

"Of course it was from Zack." Seeeing Logan's skeptical expression she added with impressive sincerity, "I can't tell you how I know…but I'm _sure_ it was from Zack."

Logan frowned. "Isn't that a little strange? I thought Zack was one of those 'I always mean what I say' type of guys – so how come he doesn't turn up this time?"

Max shrugged again before walking around to the front of the car to get the cooler. Carrying the heavy container easily with one hand, she put it down beside the table and removed the lid to find the coffee, then got out the percolator.

"Something must have happened, otherwise he would have been there," she stated decisively as she spooned some coffee into the percolator.

"Are you always like this first thing in the morning?" she queried innocently as she watched Logan lean down to tie his laces.

"Like what?" he asked dangerously.

"Kinda snappy – edgy," she elaborated thoughtfully.

Logan pushed himself up with an exasperated sigh. He wondered how one morning could go so wrong in such a short space of time – it didn't help that so far he'd woken to find Max missing and had jumped to all sorts of unpleasant conclusions, and then found he was being watched by an enigmatic ex-soldier. Having Max turn up and almost give him a heart attack was just about the icing on the cake. And she wondered why he was being _edgy!_

He looked at her, wondering briefly if he should admit his fears – that he'd been worried about her.

"Maybe you just need some coffee," she suggested sagely, giving him a smile, only to have it quickly dispelled as a new thought took its place. Fixing him with those wide, chocolate brown eyes, she remarked suddenly, with what he thought sounded like a tinge of scorn, "I hope you weren't _worried_ about me!"

"Now, why would I be worried about you?" Logan asked dryly, hands to his wheels as he moved forward a few feet to take out two mugs. "And what do we do now?"

Max looked at him curiously for a moment. There had been very few people in her life who had ever worried about her – not that she was sure it was a good thing, but it was kind of…nice…somehow.

"Well," Logan prompted as he set the mugs on the table.

Max took a short breath then said smoothly, "I'm gonna need to stay one more night. Manticore procedure – if a rendezvous is broken, you return the following day, same time."

"And if the rendezvous is broken again? Logan asked a little sceptically.

"You only get one chance."

Logan nodded. He felt suddenly uneasy. He hadn't expected that he'd have to spend so much time up here – _really_ camping, not just some easy overnight stay for a couple of hours.

"I know you're busy," Max was saying. "If there's a problem…if it doesn't suit you…I could always hitch a ride back to Seattle. It's no big dealio."

Max concentrated on pouring the coffee. She'd been only too aware of his sudden silence. She couldn't blame him _– it would be inconvenient for him to spend another day and night here…maybe it would be all too hard for him…the amenities weren't the best…maybe I'm expecting too much from him…after all, it wasn't that many months since he'd come home from rehab…maybe…_

"No. Another day will be fine."

"_What?"_ she asked sharply as his words finally broke through her thoughts.

"It's okay. I'll call Bling. Let him know," Logan was saying.

She'd prepared herself for his refusal. "You sure about this?"

Logan shrugged. "Sure. Seems a pity to let all our hard work go to waste," he added with a smile as he motioned with his head towards their 'tent'.

"Fine…okay," Max nodded, a little confused as to why she should feel so unaccountably pleased with his decision as she turned to pick up his coffee and pass it to him.

"I had a visitor while you were gone," Logan told her casually as he took the steaming hot drink.

"You did?" Max asked with surprise as she sat down on the fold out chair and took her own drink. "The four legged variety?" she asked with a humorous twist to her lips, thinking that he was joking with her.

"Nope. Definitely two legs," Logan drawled after taking a gulp of his coffee.

Max looked at him closely. "Perhaps that's who I thought I saw last night."

"Did you see a six foot, ramrod-straight backed, grey haired ex-soldier, probably somewhere in his late fifties?"

"Sounds imposing," she commented lightly.

"Mmm," Logan replied absently.

"Well, it is kinda strange when you think about it!"

"What?"

"All this!" Max waved an expressive arm about.

Logan looked at her blankly. "All this?"

"All this and no other campers," she elucidated. "What's wrong with people? Don't they recognise beauty when they see it?"

"Well, it's pretty far from Seattle," Logan explained, careful to keep his voice neutral.

"Thing is – no one has the chance ta have fun anymore!" Max mourned with a shake of her head. "You been doing Eyes Only broadcasts on the evils of kickin' back?" she asked him with sudden suspicion.

Logan threw her a look of exasperation through narrowed eyes. "I _said_ I'd stay another day, didn't I?" he reminded her.

"_You did…_ and I know the perfect walk we can go on - _after breakfast_."

Logan raised one eyebrow. "Do I detect a not-so-subtle hint in that sentence?"

"I am kinda hungry," she admitted with disarming honesty, "And unlike you who snored the morning away I've been up and about!"

"Well, I would have been up and about, too, if you'd woken me," he retorted while he leant over and fished around in the cooler for some eggs and butter. He still felt a little peeved that he'd gone through several anxious moments when he'd woken up, apparently for nothing.

Max, who'd deliberately not woken him because she was unsure of _what_ or _who_ may be waiting for her, laughed off his complaint with a flippant remark. "Well, you didn't miss anything – you wouldn't have wanted to sit around in the freezing cold for a couple o' hours."

"You did," he pointed out bluntly.

Max shrugged off the comment.

"I don't melt with the cold, you know," Logan added with a decided edge to his voice now.

"I never said you did," Max told him quickly, genuinely surprised by his comment and tone of voice.

Logan reddened a little as he realised he was overreacting to what had, after all, been just an innocent comment.

"I know…sorry," he muttered self-consciously, a little at a loss as to why he'd snapped at her with such little provocation.

"So, what are you cooking me for breakfast?" Max asked lightly as she watched him crack some eggs into a bowl, hoping to change his mood.

"Omelette."

"Sounds good t'me," she opined with gratitude as she leant back, hands clasped around the back of her neck and her legs outstretched in the manner of one who's already put in a full days work. "Call me when it's done!"

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Once breakfast was finished, Logan called Bling on his cell phone with the news that he'd be back tomorrow rather than today, while Max insisted on washing the dishes.

Rather than use their supply of drinking water, Max walked along the river's muddy bank that was lined with smooth pebbles and filled a container from the river. How could the water that sluggishly dribbled from the faucet in her apartment ever have been as clear and free of dust and dirt and grime as this river water appeared to be? They probably hadn't needed to bring their own drinking water after all, she mused, as she cupped a hand of the cold liquid to her mouth.

Once the container was filled, Max stood up let and her gaze wander around the impressive scenery before her, but disconcertingly her mind soon filled with other images: flashes of young children in combat fatigues wading through icy cold rivers up to their waists with guns held high above their heads.

Max blinked away the image with a quick shake of her head.

Almost warily, she let herself relax a little, for once determinedly taking the time to appreciate the subtle cleverness of nature - the variety of green to be found in the tall trees that rose on the hill opposite, the varied twittering and songs of the birds against the persistent rush of the river as it stumbled and swirled over rocks… a lazy cloud trailing dreamy long tendrils across the blue sky of mid-morning.

It was a thoughtful Max who carried the water back to their site to wash the dishes.

What had a forest ever meant to her?

In her harsh, brutal childhood, trees were merely used for cover and to obtain viewpoints or to launch ambushes from; luscious undergrowth was an aggravation to be hacked and cleared and rivers an annoying, uncomfortable obstacle to cross.

Sometimes it all seemed like a lifetime away, nothing more than a blurred memory – and at other times, it was all too real and in spite of her all her attempts to forget, the smell of dirt and leaves and blood was too strong … and it could have been yesterday.

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The sun was beginning to penetrate through the trees and the air was now appreciably warmer by the time they'd completed their allotted tasks.

"You ready for our walk?" Max asked Logan as soon as she saw him close the lid of his laptop.

"Guess so," Logan replied gamely as he reached into the car for his wheelchair gloves.

Max rolled her eyes a little at his attitude. "Logan, I'm not taking you up the side of a _mountain."_

"Just as well – you know I don't like heights," he reminded her glibly.

Pleased to find him in a happier mood, she gave him a sunny smile while he slipped his laptop into a bag at the back of his chair. "You taking that with you on a walk?"

"I don't like the idea of leaving it unattended in the car with no sure way of securing it," Logan explained, "Even if there's only Tex around," he added dryly. He hadn't told her that he'd also added his gun to the bag while Max had visited the camp's bathroom.

Max nodded her understanding. "I'll lock up," she offered. "You need anything else out?" she asked as she reached up to zip the arch that formed the opening of their tent.

Logan looked up at the sky. Through the trees he could see its brilliant blue. The dew that had fallen during the night was rapidly evaporating as the sun rose higher.

"I don't think I'll need this heavy jacket," he decided aloud as he took it off and tossed it into the back of his car. "You want some water?" he asked Max as he took a bottle out of the cooler and placed it in the bag as well. He had no idea how far Max's 'walk' was going to take them, but he was determined to be prepared.

"Nah," she replied, shaking her head before turning to zip up the tent.

"So, where are you taking me?" Logan asked her as they started off.

"The place where I was gonna meet Zack. Thought you'd like to see it," she told him cryptically.

Logan looked up at her, but it was clear that she had no intention of imparting any further information so he pushed on silently by her side.

The path Max had chosen was composed of comparatively smooth hard packed dirt layered with the ever-present pine needles. Studying the trail ahead of him, the thought crossed Logan's mind that it was suspiciously free of branches and other forest debris.

Gracious, elderly pines and a variety of broad-leafed trees towered above them only intermittently at first, but as they progressed further along the path, the trees and undergrowth became denser. The sun, that had penetrated so freely before, was now only able to struggle through as random shafts of light. Here, even the birds seemed reluctant to break into their strident song.

In time, Logan found himself breathing a little harder and he soon realised that they were on a gradual incline that was becoming increasingly steeper.

"I thought you promised no mountains," Logan reminded her a little breathlessly, as he had to push that little bit harder and quicker.

"This is a _hill_," she corrected him lightly, nonetheless feeling a little guilty that she hadn't counted on this part of the path as being difficult.

Logan's arms and shoulders were beginning to burn with the effort and he was just wondering if he should give in and stop for a breather when the path evened out and, unexpectedly, the trees gave way to a grassy clearing where a few deer grazed. They looked up at the intruders – their gentle brown eyes wide with fear – before they turned and gracefully raced off into the forest on their slender, deceptively strong, long legs.

"This is the place," Max told Logan, her voice almost reverently hushed.

Feeling hot and sweaty, he took his water bottle out and took a swig before asking, "The place where you were hoping to meet Zack?"

"_The place where the homestead was." _

Max continued along the path. It now cut across a grassy plateau of manicured lawn -thanks to the attentiveness of the deer. She squinted a little as she stepped out into the dazzlingly bright sun. Only one thing remained of the house - the remains of a huge, stone chimney. The column no longer stood, but the broad foundation had withstood the test of time and the attempts of countless people to leave their names and dates etched into the grey stone.

A large bronze plaque, its letters faded and worn from years of exposure to everything that nature could throw at it, had been attached to the few remains. It stated its purpose with stark simplicity.

Having got his breath back, Logan followed her across and silently read the words on the inscription.

_Here, on the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1917, died Martin and Roma Murchison and their five darling children – who now play joyfully forever in the gardens of Paradise._

Max silently traced the faded outline of an impressive, war-like angel that had been embossed on the memorial.

"I guess he musta been lookin' the other way that day," she shrugged cynically.

"Just over a hundred years ago," Logan commented, but his tone too was softened by the sad history before him.

"To think that an area as peaceful as this could be a place of such tragedy," Max murmured quietly as she looked around the site, careful to hide the sad hurt in her eyes from Logan.

Logan nodded silently. There was certainly a haunting beauty about the place.

Max thought back to the woods of Manticore and to the evil that she'd seen performed there. Would an unknowing person come across those same trees and think them beautiful, or would they be struck with the strange, inexplicable sense of horror that she had found here?

"We'd better move on. I want to see the river," Max snapped abruptly, her voice sounding almost harsh in the serene surroundings as she strode off without looking back. "Come on," she called over her shoulder, distinctly in the tone of a command.

Logan looked after her in surprise. After all, _she_ was the one who'd wanted to visit this spot, he muttered as he watched Max already disappearing over the edge of the slope. With raised eyes, he put his water bottle on his lap and pressed on after her, hoping that she wasn't completely out of sight, as he had no idea which path she'd intended to take.

By the time he got to back to the steepest part of the path, Max was nowhere in sight.

Logan paused before setting off down the slope, trying to recall Bling's words of advice. As was always the case, the incline appeared a lot steeper when you stood at the top and looked down. He'd navigated plenty of ramps – just none as steep and slightly uneven as this one was. _Just take it slowly,_ he told himself calmly.

He remembered the first time he'd ever skied. His father had taken him to the top of what had seemed like an incredibly steep hill at the time, but probably wasn't, and told him to ski down it. When he'd finally reached the bottom, covered in snow, his father had smiled at him and said, "See. Now you've learnt how to fall."

"Well, that's _not_ gonna happen this time," he muttered with determination as he released his brakes.

He was making good progress and had gone halfway down when he saw the water bottle on his lap suddenly slide forward. Before he had a chance to do anything, it slid further then disappeared completely over his knee and rolled off down the steep slope.

With a fatalistic shrug, Logan let it go as he concentrated on navigating the final, steepest part. Once he was close enough down to the bottom, he let go of his wheels entirely and let himself roll at what he considered a thrill-seeking pace, allowing his chair to naturally slow of its own volition as the path evened out once more.

Feeling quite pleased with his stylish descent, he swung his chair around and looked for Max.

"You drop this?"

Logan turned in the direction he'd heard the voice. It was Max. In her hand she held his water bottle.

"I rushed on ahead without thinking," she apologised almost defiantly.

"That's fine," Logan assured her, grateful she hadn't been there to witness his hesitation. "So… which way now?"

Max looked down at him. "There's a path that's a shortcut through to the river. It comes out at a kinda sweet bend…" She paused then with sudden hesitation.

"But…" Logan added for her.

"It may be a bit too rough," she admitted uncertainly.

"There any other way to get to this spot?" Logan asked practically.

Max shook her head. "Doesn't seem to be. It's one of those stunning, secluded spots you read about on travel brochures."

"I didn't know you read travel brochures," Logan murmured as he pushed forward to what he assumed was the start of the path disappearing off into the forest.

"Well, just because I don't sleep doesn't mean I don't dream sometimes," she told him a little defensively, not quite sure she had wanted to admit this to him. It hardly seemed to fit her tough-ass image. "See. It's not as smooth as the other one," she told him as she came up and stood behind him.

Logan sat with his hands on his wheels contemplating the path. It was everything he _hadn't_ hoped for – rough, uneven, and strewn with branches and sticks from any number of storms since who-knew-when. Obviously it was used very little by the infrequent visitors to the campground. He sighed inwardly – the faint note of disappointment in Max's voice had been unmistakable to him as she'd pointed out the path's deficiencies.

"I could clear it for you. It's only a short way to the river from here," she suggested hopefully, coming around the front of him and picking up a large branch that blocked his way even as she spoke. "Course, if you'd rather not…" she added in an understanding tone, "we can always get to plenty of other nice spots along the river from one of the other trails."

"If it's only a short way…" he found himself theorising.

"You sure, Logan?" Max asked, now turning to him doubtfully as she wondered if she had pressured him into something he'd rather not do. She was reasonably sure that he hadn't had much experience in off-road trekking since the day the bullet had ripped into his spine with such devastating results.

"Max, it's just a path. We're not discussing travelling to another country!" he pointed out to her with a hint of frustration that she was now making such a big deal over what should have been an easy decision.

"The end result will be worth it," she grinned at him, apparently satisfied with his decision as she stooped to pick up a few branches.

"Good," he replied, favouring her with one of his own rare, wide grins, pleased to see he'd made her happy for once.

Once they started forward, he found the going tiring, but not overly difficult as he carefully chose the more even parts of the trail. Max picked up a large, solid stick and used it to push any debris out of his way.

Conversation became desultory as Logan concentrated on not tipping over as he found, to his dismay, that the path deteriorated badly the closer they got to the river, slowing his progress even more as he had to navigate embedded rocks and protruding roots.

_What was it Bling said about being thrown in the deep end? _he remembered wryly as he nearly overbalanced backwards after overcompensating for a tree root. He paused for a moment to get himself back on even keel, in more ways than one, breathing quickly after his close call.

Logan took a few deep breaths as he distractedly watched Max. She was fearlessly trekking onward with her lithe, effortless X5 agility, her long legs moving with an easy, rhythmic stride, when all of a sudden he felt a startlingly intense stab of envy. All at once, the physical gulf between them seemed enormous – depressingly unassailable.

Feeling suddenly morose and somewhat at a loss as to the intensity of his wayward emotions, he pulled out his water bottle from his bag and took a swig of the now, lukewarm water.

Max had disappeared around a bend in the trail and Logan sat alone in the forest's unusual quiet, feeling disgruntled and sticky with sweat. No birds twittered, the leaves were uncannily still, and the only sound he could hear was that of his own laboured breathing.

Attempting to pull himself together, he was just contemplating pushing onward when a shrill scream of terror decimated the morning air.

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_To be continued_


	4. High on a Hill

Huge thanks to all for the lovely reviews.

Sorry this took so long but summer is a busy time here and in a part of the world experiencing winter, Alaidh , has been snowed under with work to beta.

Of course, as always, humongous thanks to Alaidh for her beautiful beta!

Special thanks to Nose-Only for his input on this case.

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CHAPTER 4

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Logan froze.

Every part of his being stilled while he listened to the shriek that played a concerto of disconcerting notes along the nerve endings at the back of his neck.

The final notes of the piercing cry suddenly ended with the abruptness of a slammed door. New sounds came to Logan's ears – sounds that spoke of careless urgency - the snap of breaking twigs, ruffled leaves as something brushed impatiently and uncaringly against them, then, even more disturbing, the sound of running feet rushing towards him at a hectic pace.

Breaking from his frozen state, Logan twisted to reach for the gun in the bag at the back of his chair, but in that instant a figure rushed around the bend in the trail to stand stock-still and look at him. Max.

Logan opened his mouth, intending to ask her what the hell was going on, when her dark eyes swept over him with a cool, searching glance. Before he had a chance to speak, she'd snapped, "Stay here."

Within seconds, she'd disappeared back around the bend in the trail and was gone.

Logan drew a breath intending to call after her, but realizing the futility of the gesture, he closed his mouth with an exasperated grunt and snapped on his brakes.

It was only a matter of seconds before he frowned, then blinked once, very slowly, as the full significance of her words sank in – he was being relegated to the role of the one to stay in safety 'behind the lines.'

"I don't think so," he muttered decisively as he released his brakes.

Without a moment's pause he dumped his water bottle back in his lap, dropped his hands to his wheels and pushed on after her.

The sound of the shriek still echoed in his mind. He grimaced suddenly. Should he have told Max the secret he'd been keeping from her? ...W_ell, not secret exactly and besides, if she paid any attention to the world around her she probably would've heard about it herself, _he reasoned cynically

Still frowning, Logan bit down on his bottom lip and strained to listen while he navigated his way over the difficult path, this time with far less regard for his own safety. The thought that Max was getting further and further away from him every second spurred him to a new recklessness.

The sharp bend that Max had disappeared around was a bumpy ten yards away, but he covered the distance with surprising ease. It was only when he rounded the corner that things became unexpectedly more interesting. He brought his wheelchair to a complete halt with such a jerk that he lunged forward a little.

As if joined by a puppeteer's string, three faces, in varying degrees of surprise, whipped around to stare down at him.

Logan stared back with surprise to see a wafer-thin girl of about Max's age with insipid blue eyes and straggly straw-like blonde hair, a man with curly brown hair in holed denim who looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, and another man, this time more likely in his early thirties, whose dark, long hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in months.

"What're your gawking at?" the dark haired one growled in an unusually deep voice as he shook his head slightly from side to side, as if he was recovering from some sort of delayed shock.

"Funny, I was about to ask you three the same thing," Logan responded evenly, wondering who they were and what connection they had, if any, to the scream he and Max had so recently heard.

The three continued to look at Logan suspiciously, in between casting uneasy glances further down the path towards the river.

Logan decided it was best to play the innocent bystander – which he was, in any case. "You hear anyone…" he felt for the right words, "cry out?" he settled for.

The fine art of deception was obviously a trait they hadn't studied, Logan noted, as their eyes hopelessly gave them away. Each one of them began looking everywhere except at him with a nervousness that was almost laughable. Logan had to admit that he thought they looked downright scared rather than guilty.

Well, if these three knew nothing about the sound they'd heard, he was keen to press on and see where Max had gone.

"Look, we were just here on this path when my friend and I heard something, so she ran on to check it out," Logan told them impatiently in the hope that jogging their memories might help.

"Now why would she wanna do that?" the younger man asked, his eyes now flaring with the first faint flicker of suspicion.

"I guess she wanted to_ help_," Logan stated slowly, as if talking to a child who didn't understand such a simple concept.

He wasn't sure why, but apparently something he'd said had triggered the wrong response and he now felt distinct feelings of animosity directed towards him.

Sighing with frustration, he pointed out with more than a slight note of sarcasm, "People usually only _scream_ when they're in some kinda trouble."

His words didn't seem to resolve the issue – the girl and the younger man continued to stare down at him, but now he was faced with the added dilemma of the third man slowly starting to circle around behind him.

Logan took his hands off his wheels and held them up in a gesture of surrender. "Look, I don't know what you're thinking, but if it happens to be _your_ friend in trouble, keeping me here is hardly gonna help things any."

This time, the wisdom of his words seemed to have some effect. The girl's pale face looked increasingly worried. "I say we should go and see if Lucy needs help."

The brown haired man seemed to be weakening too. "Chad, let's get going," he urged his friend, who by this time now stood behind Logan.

"Pretty strange," Chad commented, ignoring their suggestions. He was now standing about two feet from Logan's back.

Logan let his hands drop easily again to his wheels, but he could feel his heart rate quickening uncomfortably.

"What – it's strange wanting to help someone?" he asked, being purposefully obtuse.

"It's kinda strange you'd have a laptop with you way out here," the other expounded very slowly, as if his brain was trying to work out the significance of the discovery.

"You thinkin' he's a Fed after all, Lenny?" the younger man asked quickly, even though he looked at Logan doubtfully, as if he thought the chance was unlikely.

Logan would have laughed outright if he hadn't sensed that the wrong word could go very badly for him. "I'm not a Fed. I'm simply out here enjoying the scenery," he managed to say, being careful to keep his tone as matter-of-fact as possible.

"Well, I don't care what you two think. I say he doesn't look like a Fed," the girl opined with a defiant look towards the other two. "Can't we go see where Lucy and Poggs are?"

"Well, how do we know he's not one? We should check to see if he's packin' some heat," Chad asserted.

"The laptop thing _is_ kinda weird, Chad," the younger man remarked, screwing up his face as if thinking came difficult to him.

Finding the whole discussion ludicrous in the extreme, and becoming more and more frustrated, Logan finally snapped, "Okay, sure…I'm a cop or a Fed or anything else you want me to be. You gotta problem with that?"

He suspected they both had a problem with that when both men suddenly produced guns.

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Max headed back along the path with not quite the speed she'd raced down it, but at a fast pace nonetheless.

She suspected Logan would be wondering where she'd been. In fact, she was surprised that she hadn't encountered him before this. It had crossed her mind as she'd told him to "Stay there," that it was unlikely he was going to sit patiently and wait for her return. Nothing he'd done in the months she'd known him had suggested to her that he did anything sensible in regard to his own safety. She wondered if that made him a hero or just plain stupid.

She was nearly back at the final bend in the winding path where Logan should have been when she stopped as quickly as Logan had some minutes earlier. Her fine-tuned designer hearing easily picked up the sound of raised voices.

Max, ever cautious, stopped and stood perfectly still while she listened. She could hear Logan clearly say, "What – it's strange wanting to help someone?"

Her brow creased in confusion as she listened, trying to make sense of the conversation as it unfolded._ Logan some kinda cop?_ The thought brought a quick smile to her face. Well, he should be able to talk his way outta this one, she mused, for once not keen to rush in and do anything that would attract attention to them both. She didn't want to do anything that would jeopardise her meeting with Zack.

The next words she heard Logan say changed all that.

"Okay, sure…I'm a cop or a Fed or anything else you want me to be. You got a problem with that?"

At that point Max rolled her eyes. "Logan – you'd never get a job as a diplomat," she muttered, her eyes suddenly widening as she heard the unmistakable 'click' of more than one gun.

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"Yeah, man, we do have a _problem_ with that," Lenny started to say, but he was unable to finish his sentence as the gun he was holding was suddenly ripped from his hand and a perfectly timed blow to the back of his head had him sagging to the ground.

Such was the speed of Max's attack that Chad could do no more than stand and watch in amazement as a back flip landed Max at his side. This time she struck a blow to his gun hand making him cry out with pain as his fingers involuntarily let go of their grasp and the gun clattered to the ground. Then, to make sure he had the point, she grabbed the arm he was clutching and gave it a quick twist. He somersaulted into the air before hitting the ground with a thump loud enough to make Logan wince as he landed heavily on his back.

"Sorry, boys – but yah see… _I've_ got a problem with _guns_…particularly when they're pointed at friends of mine," Max told them both coolly.

The blonde girl cried out, "I don't have a gun," then looked like she was about to burst into tears as she watched her two companions struggling to overcome the pain they felt in various parts of their anatomy.

Max collected their guns, made sure the safety catches were on, then handed them to Logan.

"You ever read the book on how to 'Win Friends and influence People?' she asked him.

Logan shrugged. "Had a boring cover."

"We didn't d…d…do anything wrong," the girl stuttered, completely overawed by Max's prowess.

"Listen, honey, I don't give a damn about how many cops you perps pissed off. Our only aim," and she indicated Logan with a nod of her head, "is to kick back and commune with nature, an' all that crap. So…" and her gaze encompassed all of them, "you just keep your jammed up lives to yourselves and everything'll be sweet."

By this time, Lenny had stood up. Still rubbing the back of his head, he muttered, "What about our stuff?"

"We'll keep your guns safe with us until we leave," Logan told him, holding both guns in his hand. "You keep outta our way and there won't be any trouble."

"By the way, you might want to check out those two chumps down by the river. I take it they're friends of yours."

At her words, the three stared at her with alarm.

"Instead of waving your guns in our faces, looks like you owe us a favour," Max corrected them, "and you might wanna point out to them that whatever candy they're flying on doesn't mix with the great outdoors."

Her words had Logan staring at Max curiously by this time.

The three gaped at her in varying degrees of pain, truculence and, at least on the part of the girl, a fearful apprehension.

"Outta here," Max prompted them.

If they thought they owed her a thank you, they weren't about to show it as they shuffled off down the track.

Logan suspected the boys were acutely embarrassed to be taken out with such ease by a girl younger than themselves.

Max watched them for a minute, until they were around the bend, then she turned to Logan. "Think I'd better make sure they find their peeps," she said lightly.

Logan nodded his agreement. He wasn't entirely sure he trusted them either.

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Left alone, he took a long drink of water while he waited, idly reflecting on the events of the last twenty minutes as he shook the black water bottle in his hand to check that he was leaving enough for the return trek. Something bothered him, until it came to him with a slight start that the three jumpy campers must have cut through to the path he and Max had been on from the forest itself. Otherwise, Max would have come across them as she'd run down to the river.

In light of their near panic at the though that he could have been a cop, Logan's journalistic instincts, which had already been on the alert, immediately kicked in and wanted to know what it was they were trying to hide.

Assuming that it was more than likely that they'd come from the side of the forest that ran away from the river, he checked out that side first.

Sure enough, he found an area leading into the trees and undergrowth where the grass looked as though it had been trampled by feet on a regular basis. He was hindered from entering the area by a large, leafy branch that hung low, but by forcing it up and holding it aloft with alternate hands while his other hand pushed down hard on the wheel of his chair, he managed to get himself through the small opening. Once he'd let go of the branch again, he was amazed when he turned around just how completely it hid any opening to the path.

Logan hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was such a good idea. He didn't know if the three they'd met had any other friends, and people performing nefarious duties don't usually take it too well when their secret is discovered. On the other hand, he wasn't entirely sure it would be a good idea for Max to think he suspected there was something unusual about Murchison Woods. He knew all she wanted to do was concentrate on meeting Zack. Making up his mind, he made a decision to press on as far as he could in what little time he had before Max came back.

This time, though, he pulled his gun out from his bag and sat it on his lap, just in case, before pushing onward.

He was able to follow, what was for the most part, a reasonably well-beaten path through almost exotically thick undergrowth and towering trees.

Within a few minutes he came across his goal quite unexpectedly, and for a moment he could only sit and stare, not entirely sure of what it was.

The leaves of the plants were thick and wide and tinged with a dark purple – not entirely unlike some of the indoor plants he remembered his Aunt Margo being so fond of. These, he suspected, were far more expensive than anything even Margo had owned, and were definitely not used for merely decorative purposes.

From his seated position, it was hard for Logan to estimate how far the crop extended but, hazarding a guess, he assumed there were thousands of the waist high plants.

The plants were surrounded by a four-strand, sturdy looking, wire fence that stood about five feet high. There was no gate in sight, so Logan stretched out a hand to grab a sample of the plant, using his wheel to brace himself as he cautiously reached forward.

Max's cry of caution and his of sudden yelp of pain coincided with the moment Logan's gloved right hand did no more than graze one of the wires.

Max grabbed the back of his chair and pulled him back with a, "Are you whack? The fence is zapped!"

"I know that now, _thank you_," Logan told her with studied calmness as he nursed his still tingling hand.

"What were you thinking?" she snapped at him, amazed that he could make what was, to someone with her training, an unforgivable mistake.

"I wasn't thinking it was rigged with an electric current, obviously," Logan ground back at her as he took a deep breath.

"Well, at least the crank who rigged this thing wasn't trying to kill you," she muttered thankfully, "but the current is much stronger than is usually used for this kinda thing. This is plain mean. It looks like it's here to deter large animals…deer probably – give them a really big vicious zap so that there's no way they'd come back for more ."

"It certainly deterred me," Logan commented wryly as he stripped his glove off to check out any damage.

"You get a burn out of it?"

"Nope, nothing more than a red mark."

"You sure only your hand touched the wire?" Max asked with meaning.

"Damn. _I hope so_," said Logan quickly, reaching down to roll up his cargo pants and check both lower legs.

Max watched quietly as he did a quick inspection, struggling to understand what it must be like for him to have to get used to having no sensation in almost half of his body.

"Both okay," he announced with relief as he rolled the legs of his pants down and straightened up.

"So, what is all this and what's with the sneaking off by yourself?" Max asked him suspiciously, her anger only slightly appeased by the fact that he hadn't been seriously hurt.

"I started wondering what it was they were doing that had them seeing cops behind every bush."

Max stared at the plants. "You know what these are?"

"Not a clue," Logan admitted. "You wanna take a look around for me while we're here?"

Max nodded. "You should start heading back to the path though. We don't know if the three green thumbs we met plan on returning. For all we know, the forest may be crawling with more of them," she added in the form of a mild rebuke.

Logan stared irritably at the plants for a moment. At least in Seattle he was able to go about much of his life as it had been before – particularly as he spent much of his time in a spacious apartment with smooth wood floors. Today, however, he saw how much of a disadvantage a wheelchair could be and it irked him that his actions were directed by its limitations.

"You okay?" Max's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Sure. I'll head back to the path while you take a look around," he answered her smoothly enough, but his underlying note of dissatisfaction left her wondering what it was that bothered him.

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Logan had made it nearly all the way back to the main path when he found himself unexpectedly and irrevocably stuck.

Leaning forward, he found that a long vine-like weed or plant had managed to wrap itself around his right front caster. Feeling a rising frustration within himself, he reached down to free it, but found to his dismay that it was wrapped so tightly that he couldn't get it to budge.

"Damn it!" he muttered as he saw how close he was to the main path. If the other three happened to return he didn't have a hope of avoiding them, stuck as he was here on the path, whereas Max, on the other hand, could always merge into the bushes.

Logan tried again to free it, but then stopped and listened intently. Was that voices he heard? His only consolation was that he still had his gun on his lap, but he doubted he'd be able to convince them this time that he wasn't a cop when they found him snooping around something he was obviously not meant to see.

He could feel the blood starting to pool in his head from his length of time upside down. It just didn't seem possible that a piece of vine could get wound around the small wheel so tightly in such a short space of time.

Logan stopped again. This time he was sure he heard voices.

"Come on," he muttered urgently to himself as he went back to the tangled mess that had become his wheel. He just thought he was beginning to make some headway when two cool, strong, hands removed his and started working on the vine.

"I think I heard voices," Logan whispered to her urgently. "Maybe you'd better go. They may have more guns if the two by the river were packing as well."

Max knew full well that the other two had guns – she'd seen them herself.

"Hold tight," was all she had to say as she ripped the last bit of the troublesome plant away from his wheel.

Grabbing the back of his chair, she shoved it forward over the rough path with enough force to make Logan grab at his seat for balance. He vaguely heard Max mutter, "Sorry," then she was holding up the branch for him so that he could wheel through the narrow opening.

Sure enough, they could both hear the voices now – the deep, booming voice of Chad was unmistakable and it sounded disconcertingly close.

Max checked that the branch was correctly back in place, then she quickly scuffed over the telltale wheel marks from Logan's chair while Logan pushed as hard as he could along the path.

"I tell yah, there's something really weird about them."

The voice carried clearly, but Logan and Max drew a sigh of relief – they'd made it around at least two bends in the trail away from the hidden entrance.

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Both Logan and Max wore thoughtful expressions as they made their way back to their campsite.

"So, you wanna tell me what the scream was all about?" Logan asked her as they headed back up the path.

"A coupla their peeps were playing Tarzan down by the river – only they were too stoned or high or whatever to see that the rope swing they were on was tied to a branch that was about to break."

Logan nodded his understanding. "I take it 'baby' didn't wanna fall?"

"Yeah – screamed like she was being tortured and her boyfriend just stood there and stared at her. Really weird – I mean, the worse thing that coulda happened was that she'd get wet."

"Maybe she can't swim."

"Either that or completely paranoid about water or drowning," Max suggested thoughtfully. In her mind she could clearly see the look of sheer terror on the face of the girl as she dangled over the river on her rope swing. "I mean…why would you even go on a rope swing over a river if you were afraid of falling in?"

"A dare?"

"It would be like you bungee jumping when you don't like heights," Max elaborated.

"Let's not go there," Logan said with a grimace, finding her analogy far too vivid for his liking.

"So, what did you find out about the plants?" he asked instead.

"There must be hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. Along with the electric fence there's a sophisticated irrigation system that's definitely not pre-pulse technology. It looks to be pumping water from the river at an amazing rate and irrigating the crop."

Logan raised his eyebrows. "Hardly your backyard 'grow-your-own marijuana' set-up."

Max looked surprised. "You think they have some sorta narcotic use?"

"There've been rumours for some years about experimentation with hybrid narcotic plants. Looks like you weren't the only ones who were genetically engineered."

Max ignored his analogy. "Those two down by the river were sure strung out on something."

They continued on without a word for a while – two hikers quietly appreciating the beauty of dappled sunlight weaving its way through a canopy of leaves. _Yeah, right,_ brooded Max as she stole a look at Logan's profile, _at the moment he wouldn't even notice a bear unless he'd wheeled smack into it._

She wondered with a dark look how it was that things always seemed to get so complicated when Logan was around. She certainly had no intention that anything would get in the way of her meeting Zack. The only reason for this meet that made any sense was that he had some information for her about Brin.

Brin. _We have to help her,_ she promised herself. How often had she seen the picture in her mind of Brin, frail and weak, huddled on the park bench, the disease that was Manticore invading her every breath?

"You've gone very quiet," she said at last. "I guess we know now why they're seeing cops behind every bush?"

"Yup. Guess so," Logan murmured distractedly.

"Well, just as long as they stay out of our hair, I don't care what their dealio is," Max stated firmly, stealing a sideways glance at Logan's profile as she spoke. "You've got that 'Eyes Only smells a rat' look on your face," she added accusingly.

Logan looked up at her in surprise. "I was just _thinking_," he protested.

"I've got nothing against you thinking…just as long as you're not thinking about those boneheads and Eyes Only hacks about the evils of revved-up plants. I'm here for one thing only and that's to meet with Zack," she pointed out in no uncertain terms. "I'm not screwing up my meet with him by getting involved in some Eyes Only caper."

"I haven't asked _you_ to do _anything_," he pointed out pedantically.

"Good, cause you're not doing anything about them either," she added with a decided edge to her voice. "We have one more afternoon up here and I aim to make the most of the country life while I'm here. I intend to swim in that crystal clear river water, and lie in the sun."

Logan just looked at her. This was all news to him.

"You wanna join me?" she grinned at him, raising her eyebrows invitingly.

"No," was the short reply.

"Okay," she answered in tone that said, _you don't know what you're missing_, "but it's gonna be pretty warm by this afternoon."

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Lunch was a low-key affair. Logan hadn't brought along a huge amount of food, as the original plan had been to stay for one night only. There were still plenty of eggs and bread and cheese but he suspected they'd soon tire of that if they had to eat it morning, noon and night.

Once again, Max headed down to the river with a container to collect some water to wash their dishes while Logan put the food away and made coffee.

Max was gone a little longer than he'd expected, and he had nearly finished his coffee by the time she returned.

"Thought you'd got lost," he commented mildly as he poured her a cup then picked up his own again.

"Nope. I was organizing your afternoon for you," she told him blithely as she put down the container of water, "and solving the problem of dinner."

Logan looked up with raised brows, coffee mug poised halfway to his lips – he wasn't sure he liked the sound of this.

Max moved across to him and held her hand out low enough for Logan to clearly see what she held in her palm.

"They made you eat worms at Manticore?" he asked her uncertainly as he looked at the writhing slimy brown mass in her hand, wondering if this was some barbaric Manticore ritual she hadn't told him about.

"Logan, it's your _bait! _You're gonna go _fishing_," she retorted impatiently.

"What makes you think I like fishing?" he asked her carefully.

"Logan, _all_ men like fishing. I've seen it in the movies – you know, they wear those funny hats and boots and overalls an' stuff."

Logan looked less than impressed.

"And then they cook it for dinner," Max finished, her lips curling at the thought of freshly caught, cooked fish.

"Max. I hate fishing."

His statement brought her down to earth with a thud. Even more galling was the way the full force of her scornful glare seemed to have little or no effect on him.

"Right, I shoulda known. On the Eyes Only list of evil things to do it probably rates right up there with hanging out at cafes?" she suggested sarcastically. "I guess hanging around a river bank hardly fits your 'no time for fun, gotta save the world' persona."

Logan sat back and directed one of his dark looks at her from under his lashes.

"Logan…why do you have fishing rods and fishing gear if you _don't like fishing_!" she asked him in frustration.

"Because my uncle's theory in life is that if_ he_ likes something then everyone around him has to like it as well."

"Why didn't you just tell him you hated it?" she shrugged, wondering what the big deal could be.

"If you'd met my uncle you'd know that telling him anything like that would be a complete waste of time," he told her dryly as he added his dirty cup to the small pile of unwashed dishes. The water they were heating for washing was now hot enough, so he took it off the burner and emptied it into another container to wash the dishes.

Max simply left him with an ultimatum: "Well, if we wanna eat anything other than omelettes or beans…"

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So it was, sometime later, that a disgruntled Logan sat by the riverbank, fishing rod in hand, a wriggling worm firmly attached to the other end. He wondered ruefully how he'd ever let Max talk him into this.

He'd become doubly suspicious when she declined the offer of the other rod – no doubt the thought of sitting still and quiet for hours on end by a riverbank wasn't entirely to her liking, either.

The time had passed relatively quickly, aided by the work he was able to do on his laptop. He'd sorted through some files and information he hadn't had a chance to thoroughly read through. It had been a little awkward juggling laptop and line but somehow he'd managed this feat.

He certainly felt mildly more satisfied with life when he looked at the three large fish flapping around in the pail of water beside him. He had no idea what variety they were, but they certainly looked edible to him.

He wasn't entirely sure where Max was. She'd gone for a walk once she'd seen him established by the riverbank. It turned out she'd already reconnoitered when she had dug for worms and found what she'd said was 'the perfect spot' for fishing. It was a high, grassy bank not far from their campsite that dropped about three feet to the river. The water here was deep and relatively still as the bend sheltered it from the fast flow of the river.

He suspected she'd then gone to check on the whereabouts of, as Max had called them, their 'punk-ass' neighbours. The thought of them brought a frown to his face as he dropped the rod by his feet for a moment so that he could shift his position. He couldn't see how they were connected in any way to the rumours he and Bling had heard, but there was no doubt in his mind that the crop he and Max had discovered was an illegal one.

The question was, how far to push it? Max was clearly not interested in finding out what their game was, which made things difficult for him if he wanted to do some investigating. Without her help, and with no other informants in the area to call on, there was virtually nothing he could do. Save for that one, relatively cleared path, every other one was a nightmare for him to navigate. All the same, he couldn't help wondering…

Coming back to the present with a start he realised the rod at his feet had jerked several times as if something was tugging at it. In fact, it was in danger of slipping right over the edge of the bank if he didn't grab it quickly. Releasing his brakes, he propelled himself forward about 6 inches and grabbed it, quickly reeling it in to see what was on the other end of the line.

_Maybe this fishing thing isn't so bad, after all,_ he mused with a small grin.

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Max located the campsite of the five other campers she'd met that morning with surprising ease. They certainly weren't trying to hide their presence. She found them further along the riverbank, a brisk five-minute walk for her from where she and Logan had set up camp.

Their campsite turned out to be a couple of sad-looking, domed, three-man tents, and a VW van that had certainly seen better days.

Max approached warily – there was no sign of life outside – just plenty of empty tins, bottles, old newspapers and various other items of garbage that they hadn't bothered to bag and dispose of. She wrinkled her nose with disgust – it was one thing to see a scene like this in the streets of Seattle, but up here in an area untainted by post-Pulse filth, it was a veritable crime.

Max stepped over the garbage without a noise and made her way to the singularly unattractive, rust-riddled orange van. She noted at once rutted tire marks in the grass that indicated the van had been driven some time in the not too distant past.

Squatting low beside the driver's side front wheel, Max blocked out the enticing sounds of what should have been just a lazy afternoon by the river and listened carefully.

When she heard nothing she looked in one of the grime-streaked windows – apparently the morning's activities had left them exhausted. All five were crammed in the van, lying either on a stained futon or simply flaked out on the floor as if they'd collapsed mid-sentence.

Max curled her lip with disgust – to someone who always liked to be in control, drugs were a total turn-off.

Moving around a little further, Max ducked under a sagging awning that had the dubious honour of protecting four or five broken down chairs – their once bright stripes barely discernible on the faded canvas. On a shaky table, whose attractive centerpiece was an overflowing ashtray, a greasy pack of playing cards lay face down in various piles, as if the game had been abandoned mid-stream. Gingerly picking up one of the stubs, she put it to her nose and breathed in. She had to admit that the smell wasn't like anything she had ever smelt before and Crash could be filled with all kinds of unusual and highly illegal clouds of smoke. On impulse, she stuck two of the stubs into her jeans pocket, then satisfied that the 'gardeners' were unlikely to cause any fuss for quite some time, she crept away and headed back to her own camp site.

It took her only a minute to change into a singlet and a khaki pair of cargo shorts and grab her towel. She wondered how Logan was doing – she hoped he wasn't so obsessed with the work he was doing on his laptop that he hadn't noticed his line jerking when the fish went for the worm. She felt a little guilty – she hadn't admitted to him that fishing had been on the Manticore curriculum under survival skills, but not with the luxury of a fishing pole – they'd had to use their bare hands.

Enjoying the feel of the warm sun on her shoulders, Max walked barefoot across to the river. She couldn't see Logan from this part of the river, as he was further around the bend. The thought crossed her mind that he may be wondering where she was - she'd merely told him that she was going to have a swim.

Deeming it wiser to swim a distance away from where Logan was fishing so as to disturb the fish as little as possible, she dumped her towel at the bottom of one of the trees that grew by the bank, then stepped across the smooth pebbles to the cold, refreshing water.

_Better not disturb Logan too soon_, she decidedly thoughtfully as she prepared to plunge into the water's icy depths. She certainly wanted to give him plenty of time to catch a decent haul – she was feeling ravenous for freshly caught fish.

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TBC


	5. Sunshine on the Water

Huge thanks for the reviews – they were greatly appreciated.

My thanks to Alaidh for her wonderful work in betaing this chapter with her usual flair and such impressive speed. I'm very grateful.

California Blue, this chapter is the result of a comment you made in your final review for Ties that Bind. I hope you enjoy this!

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CHAPTER 5

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Logan closed his laptop with a snap. His left hand, which had been holding the fishing line, was beginning to feel the strain. Trying to free up his hands, he laid the rod across his legs, keeping a wary eye on it in case it jerked suddenly.

He then reached for his bag by the side of his chair and stowed his laptop, grabbing his water bottle before he sat up again.

He yawned suddenly. The sun was warm and the time spent staring at his computer screen had left him feeling lethargic and sleepy. The thought of stretching out on the grass was a particularly tempting one but, on second thought, he didn't think he could be bothered to go to so much effort.

Instead, he opened his water bottle and took a swig. The tepid liquid wasn't especially refreshing but, once he'd taken the first gulp, he followed with some more as he suddenly realised how thirsty and hot he was.

He'd started off in the shade, but as the afternoon had worn on he'd ended up in full sunlight and he was surprised to find both how warm the sun was and how warm he now felt. Never one to pay a great deal of attention to his body's needs, especially when ensconced in front of a computer, he now realised he probably should have discarded his sweater some time ago.

With a sigh he put a hand to his leg. The material of his cargo pants was warm as if they'd not long ago been ironed.

Still not quite used to his body's now erratic way of handling temperature extremes, Logan set about making himself cooler. First to go was his sweater. He tossed it down beside the bag with his laptop, cell phone and keys and immediately felt cooler in his navy T-shirt.

Shoes and socks went next. He even remembered to check that the footrest wasn't hot before putting his feet back in place. They looked ridiculously white in the sun.

For a minute he stared at them with something bordering on resentment.

"_It's just not fair!" Glasses awry, cheeks red, hair wild – youth at its most indignant._

"_Well, if you've learned anything out of this, you've learned a good lesson. You're quite right - life isn't fair." His mother's words – coolly amused yet tinged with sadness that the glory of youth didn't necessarily protect you from the harsh realities of life. Did she know she was dying even then?_

Wincing a little at the memory, Logan put his hand to the arm of his glasses and adjusted them with a purposeful expression – dismissing the memories he hadn't asked to recall in an effort to hold on to what had lately been a sometimes precarious equilibrium.

He pushed himself forward another few feet so that he could catch the shade at the edge of the bank. Too bad if the fish notice me, he thought wryly as he locked his brakes and picked up his rod again. From his new position he could stare straight down to the reeds and gently moving water. He had to admit that in his hot state it looked particularly tempting.

The sun glinted fiercely off the water, and at this new angle he had to squint to be able to look out at the river. He yawned once, then yawned again, seeing silvery, blinding spots before his eyes as they momentarily closed.

Trying to wake himself up a little, he dropped the rod onto his lap so that he could change his position. Uncannily, he'd only just put his hands to his wheels and raised himself up a little when his rod jerked suddenly with quite some force.

"Whoa," he muttered as he quickly grabbed at it and began reeling in his line. However, he'd only reeled it in a little way when he realised the line had gone slack again. Whatever had been there had obviously let go.

_I suppose I should reel it in and check if my bait is still there_, he thought sleepily. His eyelids were feeling incredibly heavy now – the temptation to give in to the weight and let them close was just too much.

Logan vaguely had enough sense to lean well back, as somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if he'd fall from his chair if he fell asleep._ Did Bling ever warn me about that…? _he drowsily tried to remember as his head fell down onto his chest and the long fingers that held the rod went slack.

He didn't know how long he slept – it seemed as if he'd only just nodded off, when suddenly he was startled awake by the sudden jerk of his fishing rod. Scarcely awake, his first instinct was to clutch at it, hard, as he felt himself dragged forward.

The sudden shock of startlingly cold water enveloping his chest, arms and shoulders as they sank below the surface roused him from his stupor in less than an instant.

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Max indulged herself in a long swim. The water was certainly cold, but her body had been built to adapt to conditions far worse than these, and she found after the heat of the day, the water made her skin tingle refreshingly.

It was rare, she realised, that she had the chance to really relax like this, and even though the upcoming rendezvous with Zack still occupied a lot of her thoughts, she still found the sensation of the swirling water an enjoyable one. She wished suddenly that Logan was enjoying this with her. _After all, what was wrong with saving the world and still having a little time for some fun? _she wondered as her strong arms sliced through the water with ease.

It had been quite some time since she'd seen Logan. She decided if he hadn't caught any fish by now he was never going to catch any.

With her powerful strokes, it took her only a few minutes to swim against the current upstream to where she'd left him.

A grin of evil intent crossed her mouth as she saw him sitting by the bank, eyes closed, his neck completely relaxed, and his head almost on his chest.

In a few strokes Max made it to where his line disappeared into the depths.

With another grin, she grabbed hold of it and tugged – hard. _Logan'll think he's got a tiger by the tail._

Her grin faded as she looked up at Logan to gauge his reaction.

"Oops!"

Shaking herself from her initial horror at the mistake she'd made, she swam forward a few feet to where the rippling circles targeted his drop site so that she'd be there when he surfaced. _If he surfaced_, she thought with a grimace as she watched the dark shadowy water impatiently. _Damn, he can swim, can't he?_ she began to wonder anxiously.

At last Logan breached the surface, face streaming with water, brown hair plastered to his head.

Max's face blurred in front of him – anxious…full of guilt…amazingly beautiful. Trying to ignore the latter thought and concentrate on the task at hand, he gasped out his first concern. "My glasses…came off."

"I'll find 'em," Max uttered quickly with a cringe. _Good one, Max. You couldn't just nearly drown him – you managed to lose his glasses as well. _

Max looked about wildly for them, hoping somewhere for a glimpse of silver in the murky depths. _What if I can't find them? He might be blind as a bat without them!_ she grimaced, eyes searching desperately.

"I think I see them," she suddenly cried out, sure she'd caught sight of something silvery floating beneath her, before doing a duck-dive under the surface.

"Hey, I got 'em," she announced triumphantly as her head broke the surface just in front of him.

Logan didn't speak. Instead he stared at her for a long moment as a series of conflicting emotions subtly played over his features. Max knew she should move into damage control – an obsequious apology or a brilliant explanation outlining her complete innocence or perhaps something simple like, _My, the fish sure are strong around here_, but for some reason all she could think of was how thick and long his eyelashes were, and how much greener his eyes looked…

"Well, looks like… I'm goin' swimming after all."

Max tore her gaze a little reluctantly from the eyes that all of Seattle found so fascinating.

"I found your rod as well," she told him with a hopeful smile, raising her arm a little in the water to show him, as if that would compensate for her first mistake…and her second one.

Logan looked at her through narrowed eyes.

"Boy, the fish… sure tug hard… on the line around these parts," he remarked amicably, his breathing only a little uneven as his arms worked constantly to keep him afloat in the deep water.

"Um…I was a little overenthusiastic…stupid," Max confessed. Her dark eyes lifted to his contritely. "Sorry."

Logan, unable to resist that look even if he'd wanted to, managed something that looked like a shrug. "I was getting hot up there… anyway," he finally admitted to her with a wet, lopsided grin.

Max gave him a relieved smile. _See, Max, piece o' cake._

By this time, Logan's arms were beginning to feel the strain. "Ahh…which way are we headed? I'm used t'swimming…in a pool with sides," he hinted.

"Right. That away," she said, pointing quickly downstream with the hand that held his glasses as she effortlessly treaded water without even disturbing her breathing.

Logan nodded and immediately took a breath and put his face down in the water, his long arms lifting cleanly above the water and then down with a clean stroke. Max watched for a moment, impressed with his style – she supposed Bling had been working with him on it or maybe he could always swim well.

Hampered as she was by the fishing rod and Logan's glasses, Max swapped the glasses and rod to the same hand and contented herself with something more like a sidestroke, heading towards the sloping, sandy bank of the river where she'd left her towel.

As soon as the water was waist deep, she hung his glasses over the neck of her singlet then stood up and started reeling in Logan's line. To her dismay it felt a little heavy in the water and she wondered how many branches and leaves she'd picked up as she'd towed the hook through the water.

"Hey," she called to him with sudden excitement as the end of the line leapt up out of the water. "Look at this!"

Logan, who was sitting up and dragging himself backwards along the final few feet of shallow water, stopped and looked across at her. To his amazement, she had a huge fish on the end of the line.

Max walked across to him, a wide grin spread across her face. "Well, at least we won't go hungry," she announced proudly as she dangled the still twisting fish in front of him.

Logan considered it closely.

"Without my glasses it's kinda hard to tell if that one's as big as the ones I caught," he said innocently.

A gleam of humour shone in Max's eyes. "You'd better put them on and let me know then," she said at once, passing them to him.

Balancing on one arm, Logan took them and slipped them on. "Nope. Definitely smaller than my _four_."

"Wow…four! I'm impressed!" Max told him as her eyes strayed to the outline of well-defined muscles under his wet T-shirt. "…about the fish," she added by way of sudden explanation, as she realised her comment and accompanying expression could be construed more as a come-on rather than any admiration of his fishing capabilities.

She thought for the merest instant she saw a look of confusion or surprise in Logan's eyes, but in the next instant it was gone and he was grinning at her fish.

"Well, maybe it is the same size as mine," he admitted, to be fair, as he tried not to look at the way the wet singlet top hugged her body and the way the beads of water lay like tiny jewels in the sunlight against her honey-coloured skin.

The grin abruptly disappeared from his face as he frowned and worriedly turned his head in the direction he knew his wheelchair to be. "I've left my laptop and cell phone and stuff up there," he told Max.

Max hurriedly put the rod down next to him. "I'll go get them," she said at once, not at all keen on the thought of his laptop falling into the wrong hands, even with all the passwords and anti-theft programmes she knew he would have on it.

"Look after junior here," she murmured with a nod towards the fish, before heading back upstream along the bank to where Logan had so precipitately abandoned his chair.

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Logan turned his head sideways for a moment to watch her go, then turned and looked back out across the river as he shifted his hands a little to change his position. The sun still felt wonderfully warm upon his face, but the slight breeze blew coolly against his wet clothes.

He had to admit, as he idly watched the water lapping at the heels of his feet, that even though he hadn't planned it, the swim had turned out to be good idea. A wide grin flashed across his face as he remembered Max's look of guilt as he'd come up for air. _Serves her right._

A few minutes passed and Max hadn't returned. Logan was finding his position increasingly uncomfortable as he half sat with his arms spread out behind him, taking his weight.

A few minutes later, Max still hadn't returned. He gave up and let himself lie down fully on his back. His aching arms, that had been given a far more thorough workout this day than Bling had ever concocted, were thankful for the reprieve.

Logan closed his eyes against the sun and the air suddenly seemed to swell with distorted sound – the constant buzz of insects in the air, the wind playing with the leaves, birds warbling competitively with each other…

At last a shadow played across Logan's face.

"You run into trouble?" Logan asked her as he lazily opened one eye only to hastily put his hands behind him and prop himself up once more.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," a stranger in a sheriff's uniform replied.

"No. We haven't run into any trouble," Logan told him quickly, assuming a look of innocent surprise as his eyes took in the dirty, scuffed boots that stood by his left hand, the badly pressed brown trousers, khaki shirt covering a slightly rotund figure and what appeared to Logan from his difficult angle, a slightly balding head.

"Great…great," the other man responded genially as he glanced down at Logan in a friendly, if somewhat distracted manner. He began walking absently around Logan, his eyes searching the area – the picture of the ever-vigilant lawman.

"Have you had problems here?" Logan asked cautiously, squinting up at him into the late afternoon sunlight as he tried to follow the erratic pacing. At times the sheriff was only a dark blob against the sun.

"Trouble? Nope, we're just a quiet little camping ground. No dramas here. We leave that to the big cities," the sheriff replied with a smile. "Sheriff Bowie," he introduced himself, stopping long enough to stretch out a hand of introduction.

Logan looked blankly at the outstretched hand, unsure of his ability to shake hands and support himself at the same time.

"Hey," a voice called.

The sheriff's hand dropped as both he and Logan looked up to see Max approaching.

_No wonder the introduction was forgotten_, Logan mused wryly. He doubted the sheriff saw sights like Max everyday. She'd grabbed her towel and had partially dried herself as she walked in the sun, and her damp hair now framed her face in soft waves.

"Wow, a visit from the law! That must make us special," Max drawled, but the smile that played on her lips robbed her words of any possible offence. Logan breathed a sigh of relief to find her in a conciliatory mood. He suspected that she, even more than him, was keen on staying under the radar until her rendezvous with Zack.

Without seeming to do so, Max studied the sheriff and, on a quick analysis, saw nothing to cause her alarm. She noticed the slight narrowing of the large man's eyes as he saw the wheelchair, and the dawning understanding as he realised to whom it belonged. If anything, it seemed to make the man relax even more.

"Well, I try to be hospitable," he grinned. "You two plan on staying here long?" It was a casual question, his manner unthreatening as he looked from one to the other as Max positioned the wheelchair behind Logan and removed his bag and her towel from the seat.

Meeting her eye, Logan said a quiet "thank you," then looked back to the sheriff. "We're only planning on being here a short while," he said easily.

"You know, I didn't even know there was a town around here," Max commented, looking around as if she expected buildings to spring up in front of her as she slung the towel around her neck and hung the bag from her shoulder..

"Well, I'd hardly call it a town," Sheriff Bowie smiled. "There's just me, really, and I double as Park Ranger, as well, at the moment. Government's always tryin' to save money these days," he explained with a wry face. "You two should take care. Murchison Woods isn't the safest place to be right now."

"You have bear problems?" Max queried with innocent surprise, wading into the water as she spoke to wash some of the dirt from her feet.

The sheriff could scarcely take his eyes from her – which was exactly what she wanted.

"Nope. It's just that no place is safe since the Pulse hit and I don't have the manpower to go protecting people."

Max looked around with a slightly cynical expression. "Looks to me like there's not a whole lotta trouble up here that we'd need to be protected from."

"True, true," he smiled unflappably. "Still, it's always best to be on the safe side. I take it you two won't be doing a lot of off-the-trail trekking," he queried with a look at Logan, who'd used Max's distraction to lift himself back into his chair.

Logan looked at him with raised brows as he caught the towel Max tossed at him.

"What I mean is – I take it you won't be doing much hiking? You'll stick to the paths around the campsite?"

Max looked at Logan while the sheriff waited for his answer. Her eyes questioned him, but her face remained impassive.

"You won't get any arguments from me on that. What about you?" Logan asked Max blandly before running the towel vigorously through his hair.

"Not me," Max agreed. "I go where he goes," she told the sheriff.

"Fine. You shouldn't get into too much trouble then. When did you say you were leaving here?"

"We didn't," Max replied, a little dryly this time.

"Maybe tomorrow sometime or the day after," Logan said quickly, keen to not antagonise the man in the hope that he'd go. Further questions could pose a problem and he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable in his wet clothes as the sun began to sink.

"Fine, fine. Well, we'll have to hope that the weather holds good for you," the sheriff remarked brightly. "I'll let you get back to enjoying the sun," he said to them with a casual glance at the clear blue sky. "Gonna be in for a cold one tonight, I'd say," were his final words before he wandered off with a wave.

"What's _his_ problem?" Max wondered with a curl of her lip as she watched his retreating back.

"Can't a cop show some old-fashioned friendliness without you being suspicious?" Logan remarked mildly as he released his brakes and gave a firm push to get his chair going.

"Cop - old-fashioned friendliness?" Max shook her head decisively as she watched Logan struggle a little to get his chair over the sandy bank. "I don't think so. You think he knows anything about the revved up plants?"

"I guess it makes sense to pay off the local law if you want your crop to grow," Logan replied thoughtfully, grateful to have reached the compacted smooth pebbles.

"Well, we've only gotta stay outta trouble another coupla hours. We cook our fish, tell spooky stories around the campfire, then head to bed like good little campers. What could be easier?" she grinned at him.

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"You know, I vaguely remember something about freshly caught fish tasting good, but I don't think I remembered it being as good as this!" Max smacked her lips appreciatively. "Do you hold with the 'it's bad manners to lick your plate theory'?"

"Only if I actually catch you in the act," Logan grinned. "What I don't know won't hurt me."

Max stuck out her bottom lip as she pensively considered the generous offer. "You're good -caught me in the act the first time we met. I'd better not risk it."

She looked up to find Logan looking at her or rather 'through' her, his green eyes glittering in the gloom of twilight. She knew where he was. She'd never forgotten that half-smile of relief on his face – nor the sparks that ignited with such brilliance between them. They could have generated enough power to light all of Seattle that night. She'd long since stopped trying to fathom just what it was that had made her feel so inexplicably drawn to him in that one moment – far safer to leave those questions alone.

Suddenly aware of a flicker of unease on Max's face, Logan purposefully swung his back towards her. "Hardly, Max," he commented over his shoulder as he lifted his plate off his lap and placed it on the table to be washed.

Max's dark eyes softened suddenly_. Logan Cale, who are you kidding? You've got more moves than any other man I know. _Aloud she said a little more temperately, "Seems to me you've got plenty of moves."

"Chess moves, maybe," he grinned, turning back to look at her.

Max raised one sultry eyebrow. "You should show me some time."

Logan laughed outright. "What, so that you can humiliate me?"

"Humiliation is good for the soul," quipped Max.

"I'll try and remember that," Logan responded dryly.

Max shrugged and stood up. "Tonight, I'm building us a fire."

"I'd better start thinking up some scary stories then while I wash up," said Logan, reaching for the container of water so he could start the dishes.

"You cooked," Max protested at once.

"_You're_ gonna build a fire," Logan countered, "and you already filled the container from the river for the washing up."

"I wanna make sure I'm doing my fair share," she appealed to him.

Logan looked up at her in surprise. She sounded so serious. What he didn't realise was that Max was genuinely appreciative of all his efforts. Now that they were up here and she saw how much harder it was for him to enjoy the great outdoors post-Pulse style than it was for her, she wanted to ensure that he didn't regret his impulsive offer.

"Just make me a nice big fire and I'll wash up. You heard what the sheriff said - it's gonna be even colder up here than it was last night," he told her, looking up at the cloudless dark sky above them that was already beginning to glitter with the first of the evening's stars. "Besides, I want some peace and quiet so that I can think up some genetically enhanced, killer plant stories to scare you with."

Max enjoyed the teasing note to his voice, but she squirmed inwardly at his topic. "Maybe something not quite so close to home, huh? What about a good old-fashioned axe-murderer?"

This time it was Logan's turn to squirm. "I'll think of something," he told her lightly.

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True to her word, Max built a huge fire that gave out sensational heat, its flames spiraling skyward like writhing serpents.

"It's all in the placement of the kindling and the structure of the logs," she told an impressed Logan as she sat on a thickly folded blanket in front of the blazing pyramid, her arms clasped about her drawn up legs.

Logan had changed into a pair of jeans and put his sweater back on after his unexpected swim. His wet pants and T-shirt now hung over a line that Max had rigged between two trees.

He sat in his chair, a little back from her, reluctant to get his legs too close but a little envious of her proximity to the blazing warmth.

"Why don'tcha join me down here?" she asked out of the blue. He found it disconcerting how she could almost read his thoughts at times.

Logan hesitated, undeniably tempted.

Max considered the best way to encourage him. "Hard to enjoy it when you're all the way over there, and I could use a backrest," she added over her shoulder as she swung her legs around so that her back faced him and she was side on to the fire.

When she still heard no movement, she said, "C'mon Logan," and moved back a few inches from the heat, slipping off the blanket and placing it at her back for him to sit on instead. She decided that this was as far as she'd push him.

With a small smile she heard the creak of his chair as he slid out of it, then she was bracing herself slightly as she felt the warmth and weight of his back against hers.

"Hey, relax," she told him with a tiny nudge, feeling sure he was still taking the majority of his weight with his arms.

"Max…" he began.

"Transgenic toughness, remember?"

She heard him grunt… laugh… something… and then she braced herself and leaned into him as this time she felt his full weight against her.

"Comfy?" she asked.

"Yep. You?"

"Fine."

They sat in silence for a while, their heads turned towards the fire, staring at the mesmerising flames. Every once in a while Max poked at it, causing a shower of sparks to erupt into the darkness. It reminded Max of the first blasts from a volcano - the prelude to disaster. It was an analogy that made her feel uncomfortable._ We're here simply to meet with Zack_, she told herself firmly, _no dramas…no Eyes Only investigations…no trouble…right._

"You think Zack'll show this time?" Logan asked at length, pulling off his shoes as he spoke so that his feet could access the superb heat of the fire more readily. He knew they'd still be frozen blocks of ice after his swim in such cold water, even though he'd mothered them with two pairs of woolly socks.

"Something must have happened or he woulda shown this morning."

The underlying note of admiration in her voice was unmistakable to Logan. Was this what she admired…wanted in a man – someone totally sure of himself at all times? Someone who always got the job done no matter what it took?

_Well, he didn't save Brin._

Logan felt a twinge of guilt for being pleased with the other man's failure. One thing he was sure of – Zack didn't want Max in Seattle. The thought made him wonder just how much of a hold Zack had over her, anyway. Could he just sweep back into her life and stare at her with those cold, imperative blue eyes and command her to do whatever he wanted? He didn't think so - _who can make Max do anything?_ But he had to admit that the X5's presence made him undeniably uneasy.

Picking up a long stick that was close by, he started to jab at the fire as he tried to dismiss the decidedly uncharitable thoughts that needled at him and the growing sense of disquiet he felt about the dawn rendezvous. It troubled him- so much troubled him lately, he thought dully. Before he'd met Max his thoughts had been controlled and orderly, everything in its correct compartment…now he felt far too often as though sometimes his thoughts controlled _him._

Since he'd met Max, everything had seemed so complicated…_or is it that meeting her coincided with other complications?_

Was it pre Max when he'd had order, or pre life in the chair? Was there even a difference anyway? They both seemed inexplicably tied to each other and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Why couldn't he separate them in his mind? Sometimes he felt it – just for a moment, an unexpected dispensation, an almost euphoric sense of release, that he was with her and he was just Logan, ordinary person. But it was always an unsatisfactorily fleeting illusion – and all the more galling to be dumped back into reality. Safer to stay in reality – no matter how unpleasant it could seem

"Hey! You trying to destroy my masterpiece?" Max rebuked him as a shower of sparks rose into the air in protestation against the dislodgement of one of the carefully placed logs.

"Not thinking," he muttered, tossing the stick down.

"Hope you've got your story ready," she warned lightly, but even as she said the words her thoughts had drifted to images of children in a grey dormitory in grey nightwear trying to bring some colour to their monotonous lives other than olive drab and blood red, by telling stories of blue ladies and anything else their starved imaginations could think of.

"Just how much horror do you want in this story?" Logan asked, not really feeling particularly inspired.

He felt her shoulders move as she shrugged. "I dunno. Never done this before."

Something stabbed hard at Logan as he heard that faintly wistful note. Fate had lavishly served him family, wealth, opportunities – what had Max ever done to receive so little? How was it that she'd never enjoyed something as basic as a night of silliness around a campfire?

"Okay. You want blood curdling, spine tingling…maybe gruesome and gory?" he asked determinedly. _The least I can do_, he decided for her sake, _is put some effort into the evening._

"Um…Logan? You wanna take a rain check on that?"

Logan frowned and half-turned his head in her direction.

"Something's in the wind. You need to sit up."

Immediately putting his hands down either side to take his weight, Logan felt the same sensation of tingling nerve-ends as he had the night before when Max had stared into the night. Within seconds she was on her feet and stretching with the lissome movements of a cat.

"I don't suppose this is your idea of fireside humour?" he suggested quietly as he half turned to watch her place his chair behind him.

She laughed as if he had said something genuinely funny – an exaggerated performance to anyone who knew her - then casually let her eyes look past the fire and roam the darkness with studied indifference.

"You wish," she smiled, but the look in her eyes when she finally directed them at him reflected a dark concern.

"I need to use the little girl's room," she announced slightly louder as she glanced around, as if deciding what tree to use. Logan barely had time to take this all in when she suddenly muttered, "Damn, gotta go," under her breath and in a swift movement disappeared into the night.

Resisting the temptation to follow her movements with his eyes, Logan grabbed his shoes and put them back on, then reached around to grab his wheelchair. That was when he encountered a slight problem - his chair was no longer there.

"I want my gun and I want the laptop. Now!"

The previously, almost laid-back deep voice of the man called Chad was almost unrecognizable in the tone that now bordered on high-pitched hysteria. Logan tried to ignore for the moment the size of the knife he held in his hand, but his eyes were caught by the tongues of orange and red and yellow that flashed a distorted reflection on the wide blade.

Logan shuffled on his hands, eyes narrowed, wondering how best to stall.

In the flickering light of the fire Chad's eyes looked wild and unfocused and his skin gleamed unhealthily with a thin veneer of sweat. To say that he was jumpy would be an understatement – he stalked distractedly back and forth in front of Logan with short, jerky steps, swapping the knife between his hands as if he was some ambidextrous knife thrower in a cheap sideshow.

"You hear me?" yelped Chad, giving Logan's leg a hard kick with the toe of his boot, which only made Logan raise his eyebrow's at the other's ignorance.

"Hey! Hey! You stoopid or something? Where's the stuff?"

"Like I told you before – I'm not a cop," Logan told him as calmly as possible_. It's what you do, right, when you're faced by a madman…talk calmly, no unexpected movements._

"I want my frickin' stuff!" shrieked the denim-clad man, bending over to scream into Logan's face.

_Okay – let's forget the calming talk, _Logan decided quickly as he looked into the face now threateningly close to his. It was transfused with uncontrollable fury. _Add a little frothing and he'd be a mad-dog._

Logan had not the slightest doubt that the man was completely irrational - a phobic time bomb waiting for the wrong word to set him off. His track record in that regard with Chad hadn't exactly been impressive so far, he admitted wryly.

This time Chad didn't waste time with his foot but, in a lightning quick movement, squatted behind Logan, knocking one of his arms out of the way to none-to-gently press the knife to Logan's throat, his knee jabbing hard into Logan's back.

"Move and I'll slice ya," he ground out. Logan found the new note of deep-throated calmness even more unnerving than the previous squeals. He knew he had to think fast.

"It's in the car. In the back," he told the other quickly, careful not to move against the razor-sharp edge that was starting to dig into his neck.

Logan scarcely felt the sudden easing of pressure against his neck as the knife was removed – every thought was focused on a plan of action and he knew he had only seconds to do something.

As soon as Chad released him and stood to his feet and took his first step past the fire towards the car, Logan twisted and lunged.

Chad had only taken one step when he found himself falling forward as strong hands gripped at his feet, yanking him until he dived towards the pine needles and hard-packed earth.

Logan held on grimly as he felt the other man crash to the ground, hoping wildly to be able to drag himself quickly enough to grab at Chad's knife hand.

The other man seemed stunned for the moment, and Logan used the few precious moments to pull himself forward, but frustratingly it just wasn't enough, and his head was only even with the other man's waist when he saw him roll over and twist his head to look down at Logan. Not close enough to get in a punch to the prone man's head, Logan grabbed at his closest arm, searching for the knife. There was none to be seen in that hand and now Logan could sense Chad bringing his right arm up and around in a wide arc. Logan desperately tried to drag himself a little further on one arm but it was a futile gesture and now Chad's arm had reached the top of its arc and was descending with rapid force. Out of the corner of his eye, Logan caught an evil gleam of silver then he was grabbing at Chad's arm with both hands as his body sagged heavily and he virtually fell on top of the other man, pinning him to the ground.

Logan's nose wrinkled unconsciously as it encountered the putrid smell of unwashed hair and reeking, bad breath, but his focus stayed wholly on wrenching the knife from the other man, who clutched it with a vice-like grip.

He held fast to Chad's right wrist, ignoring the largely ineffectual left-handed blows that mainly fell on his chest and arms, slowly forcing the hand that held the knife towards the ground.

Logan's mind slowly registered that something had changed as colours unexpectedly merged and shadows deepened. Distracted for a moment, Logan paused as his world blurred into an impressionist painting as his glasses slid off the end of his nose. In that second, Chad tried to surge upwards, but Logan, knowing his chances of success were fast dwindling as his already weary arms began to tire, feinted then pressed down even harder, forcing the other man's hand onto the cold earth with a thud that made him grunt but not release his hold on the knife. Logan repeated the movement again and again and again, grunting out each breath with every blow until finally, Chad's hand, bruised and numb, opened and the knife fell from useless fingers.

In a flash, Logan swooped on it and tossed it as far as he could into the darkness, then grimaced as the drug-crazed man recovered with surprising strength and speed and rolled them both over towards the fire, once, then twice, then three times, his hands now at Logan's throat.

_Max, this would be an awful good time to show up._

Logan reached up instinctively to the hands at his throat, suddenly aware of the heat of the fire unbearably hot against the side of his face as a bead of salty perspiration stung at his eye. Unexpectedly, Chad changed his tactics and released his hold on Logan's throat to stun him with a hard, well-aimed blow that connected somewhere near his temple. Logan saw a mouth drawn back into a mirthless smile of triumph in the blurred face above his own, then the night sky was falling, blanketing him in a hot, sultry, velvety darkness.

Heat. Smile. A sense of movement.

Logan struggled back to full consciousness with sudden panic.

_Oh, God. The fire...my legs._

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_To be continued._


	6. Fire and Rain

Thanks very much for all your feedback on the last chapter – it was greatly appreciated. Reviews make my day!

Huge thanks to Kasman for the beta when Alaidh was unable to do it. Alaidh, I hope you're feeling better soon!

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CHAPTER 6

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Away from the crackle and hum of the fire, the forest was a mysterious, silent, crisscross maze of dark shadows.

She could see the figures clearly now – silent watchers…waiting. _For what_, she wondered?

They didn't see the black shape that merged as one with the misshapen shadows until it was upon them – by that time it was too late.

"Do I need to buy a ticket?" Max murmured into the ear of the one called Lenny who promptly jumped as if a branding iron had scorched his skin.

"You," he spluttered.

By this time, the others were looking at Max with blank astonishment. It just didn't seem possible – they'd only seen her a few moments ago walking into the forest in a different direction.

"Interesting view," Max remarked cordially as she looked across to the Aztek, trying to judge what it was that had them so intrigued. From their position, she could only clearly see the car – Logan and the fire were the other side of it.

"Yeah," remarked Lenny warmly. "Where'd you get that thing? Sure is cool."

"You high again?" Max asked, curling her lip in disgust. "You never been to Seattle?"

Lenny brought his somewhat erratic gaze back to bear on her as it penetrated his mind that they were apparently talking at cross purposes. "The tent," he told her, as if she should have known exactly what he was talking about.

"We didn't mean any harm, honest," blurted out the blonde-haired girl.

"We were just walking the girls to the toilets. The ones near us are locked up." Max recognised the one called 'Poggs' who'd been too spaced out to rescue the dark haired Lucy earlier in the day. He appeared surprisingly sane now, not to mention truthful, which came as a bit of a surprise. Max looked at him curiously – his voice was soft, not unlike Logan's in his pronunciation. Another rich boy maybe, she mused.

Max opened her mouth, intending to leave them with a not-so-subtle threat should they hang around the Aztek, when her eyes were unexpectedly drawn to a large tree some hundred yards from where she stood.

Her pupils darkened, then dilated to reveal telescopic accuracy. Without a doubt, she had caught a glimpse of someone standing behind one of the many innocuous tree trunks.

Her breath caught in her throat. _Is it…?_

Even as she looked, the saw the figure step from behind the tree. He was clearly visible for a mere few seconds, before he turned and sprinted with impossible speed, further into the forest.

All thought of Poggs and his origins vanished as her one consuming thought became her desire to catch up with the figure that zigzagged so effortlessly away from her.

She had to catch up with _Zack._

Leaving the others gazing after her in puzzlement, she turned without a word and was soon little more than a moving shadow amongst the trees.

She scarcely felt the branches that whipped at her face and arms as she weaved with an instinctive precision through the trees and bushes.

_Zack._

_Why would he be watching me? Why wouldn't he simply meet with me? Not as if he doesn't know Logan…and he knows I trust him._

_So weird!_

All at once, she suspected that Zack was slowing down.

Max could feel something like excitement stirring inside herself as she realised she'd soon be face to face with those cool, blue eyes that seemed to study the world with such emotionless detachment.

She had to admit that the strain of not knowing why he'd wanted to meet with her had more than messed up her mind a little. She so desperately wanted to rescue Brin. Surely this was why Zack needed to see her so urgently.

She needed to make amends. She needed absolution. Rescuing Brin would be her penance – just a little more complex than the five Hail Marys she'd seen her foster sister have to recite.

"_Five_!"

Max stopped abruptly with a suddenness that made an owl soar silently into the air with alarm.

_Five._ She'd seen five figures behind the trees when she'd stood by Logan at the campfire, but when she'd spoken to the crop growers there'd only been four: Lenny, Poggs, Lucy and the blonde.

_Where was Chad?_

She remembered him now clearly as the truculent, suspicious one who hadn't been pleased when they'd taken his gun.

For once Max was aware of the cold as a sudden wind whipped at her jacket, but strangely it seemed to be emanating from somewhere deep inside her rather than from without.

The owl returned to its perch to superciliously stare at the intruder. This time it didn't stir when Max turned and headed back to the campfire with an even greater speed than before, but merely blinked its large, intelligent eyes with an expression that ponderously remarked, "My, my, my."

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Max rushed back through the silent trees, her face set in hard lines and her mind purposefully blank as her feet scarcely made a sound on the forest floor.

The branches and leaves flashed by with an even greater speed than they had on her outward journey. She was breathing a little quicker than was usual by the time she stealthily approached the closest tree by the campfire, but it was caused by the sudden thumping of her heart in her chest rather than exertion.

What she saw made her eyes darken with a cold, steely intent.

Her campfire still flamed fiercely, its orange glow a reflected smudge on the side of the Aztek near where Logan's fishing rod leant. Their table and chair were still in the same position underneath the awning and the clean dishes they'd so recently used stacked neatly where Logan had placed them before warming himself by the fire.

It was the tableau in front of the fire that held her attention.

"Don't even think about touching him!" Her voice resonated startlingly clear in the crispy cold, night air with a determination that was undeniable.

The man who stood over Logan looked across at the figure approaching and half raised his hands from his sides with a kind of weary, resigned surprise.

It was Logan who spoke, his words a little jerky as he caught his breath. "Max, its okay…he kinda saved my ass."

A little of the tautness in Max's shoulders relaxed as she risked taking her eyes off the man she recognised as Poggs.

Her eyes went to Logan, breathing hard, half-supported on his elbows, and took in the pool of water he seemed to be lying in. She noticed the legs of his jeans were saturated and thehuge container of drinking water, now empty, lay tossed on its side nearby.

Max stared wonderingly, trying to ignore the sudden twist in her gut as she realised she'd screwed up big time.

_Just how close had this all been?_

"What happened?" she snapped out, her voice far colder than she'd intended as she tried to deal with her mistake, regroup, recover.

Manticore had trained her as a soldier, purged her from the weakness of emotion. _Where the heck does all this other stuff come from then?_

Logan heard only incrimination in her harsh tone of voice as he flicked a glance in her direction. "Where do I begin?" he asked dryly.

"It was Chad," Poggs admitted quietly as both sets of eyes turned in his direction. "He was trying to drag your friend into the fire."

Max looked back to Logan with alarm, but his eyes were concentrating on his outstretched legs and he completely missed the wild concern that flared briefly in her eyes.

"Peter, here, saw what he was up to…came running. Saved the day, doused me with water," Logan told her in a matter-of-fact voice. _Okay, I've said it. Now she can tell me what an idiot I am. Seems to be the usual pattern with these things_, he thought, thinking back to the Steinlitz.

"Logan, you okay?"

This time he thought he caught a trace of a different tone in her blurted out words.

"Sure," he answered quickly, strangely more uncomfortable with the thought that she might be concerned for him than he'd been with her possible scorn. Scorn he could deal with - _couldn't be a nephew of Jonas Cale and not pick up that skill_. Concern though – that was something different, confusing, dangerous, possibly even belittling. Even worse, it required a response and he was presently so far below 100 he wasn't even sure he could bluff his way through anything she might expect of him.

"Logan…"

"Really, I'm okay, Max," he responded even quicker, risking a glance in her direction.

Max studied his strained face carefully, not convinced, wishing she knew exactly what had happened instead of Logan's most likely edited version.

"Looks like Chad attacked and ran," Logan commented, keen to change the topic as he looked about their campsite. "You didn't see him?" he asked Max.

She shook her head.

"Just how close were they to the fire?" she asked Logan instead, indicating his water-soaked legs with a nod of her head, thankful to see there were no scorch marks on his jeans.

Logan hesitated. The moment of panic when he'd looked up to see Chad dragging him towards the fire was an experience he'd rather forget.

"Too close," Peter murmured with a certainty that made Max and Logan stare at him curiously.

"I was more than half-way through med school when the Pulse hit," he explained self-consciously.

"So now you 'do' drugs rather than dispensing them?" Max asked, unable to resist a hint of sarcasm as she saw Logan looking about for his chair and pushed it forward a few feet for him and set the brakes. It was kind of hard to forget the other's drug-hazed state by the river that morning.

"I'm not proud of myself," Peter told her with a touch of defiance. Then to Logan, "I'm not sure if I got enough cold water on you in time. Radiated heat like that…well…" He shrugged significantly.

"He'll need to check, Logan," Max cut in. "Strip."

Logan paused in the act of positioning his arms to lift himself up onto the seat, eyebrows raised in thunderstruck surprise.

"Not literally," Max quickly corrected, rolling her eyes as a faint tinge of red suffused her cheeks. "Just your jeans so that Poggs…Peter… whoever, can check your legs," she explained quickly to cover her own confusion. "You can't leave them on anyway - they're soaked," she added bluntly.

Still not keen on the idea, Logan struggled to haul himself into his chair. Someone had apparently replaced his arms with rubberized ones, he noticed dully as he only just managed to clumsily lift his hips high enough to slide back onto his seat.

Max strode over to the table and grabbed their lamp, turning the gas flame to high, then passed it to Poggs who was waiting for the decidedly reluctant Logan, to finish removing his shoes and then slip his jeans off.

Sympathetic and a tiny bit amused by Logan's obvious reluctance, Max went over to the car and grabbed his large, thick, towel.

"Hey, you could do with this to dry yourself," she called out as she tossed it across to him. She figured if he was really worried he could use it to protect his dignity.

Logan accepted the towel gratefully, even though the corner flicked him in the eye. He had his jeans to his knees so he tossed the towel over his thighs and boxers before returning to the difficult task of yanking the now cold and stiff wet jeans from his legs.

Max was just wondering whether he'd bite if she offered to help when Logan looked up abruptly and started looking around with an exasperated sigh. "I don't have my glasses," he commented to no one in particular irritably, wondering how he could have forgotten Chad had pulled them off.

"You got a spare pair?" asked Max practically, assuming that people who wore glasses were prepared for any contingency.

"Max, it was just a simple, overnight, uneventful, camping trip," he pointed out with barely veiled sarcasm. "Why would I bring spare glasses?"

"Oh. Okay," Max responded lightly, correctly reading the gauge that told her Logan's temper was reaching the 'I'm getting _really_ pissy' level.

"I'll find'em," she said brightly.

"I think Chad may have tossed them somewhere. He pulled them off me sometime during…" he stopped abruptly, not really wanting Max to know the full extent of the evening's drama.

"Right," Max okayed, ignoring the slight hesitation as she set about carefully trolling the ground. "No big dealio – if they're here, I'll find 'em."

Logan, pleased to have her occupied while Poggs peered carefully at his skin, took the lamp from the other man, and held it over his white, motionless, legs so that the arc of light would most brightly illuminate any problem spots.

"Gottem," Max announced only seconds later to Logan's annoyance. _Not that I'm not glad to have my glasses back, but she could've taken a bit longer, _he grumbled silently as he took them from her outstretched hand without so much as a thank you. Putting them on at once he did he best to ignore Max's presence.

"So what's with the whole 'let's barbecue Logan' dealio?"she asked Poggs as she stared over the kneeling drop-out med student.

"It's the damned drug," Poggs sighed as he ran his hand gently along the side of Logan's lower left leg. "You're new to this then?" he commented to Logan, indicating the chair.

"Looks like it," Logan replied evenly.

"What is it with the plant?" Max interrupted impatiently, multi-tasking with ease as she took the lantern from Logan's hand, much to his annoyance, and held it at a better angle for Poggs to see by.

"It induces extreme paranoia," Poggs explained uneasily.

"So this morning…Lucy's whack behaviour about the water?"

"I didn't notice it at first, then, when Chad started going off the deep end, I just thought it was because of the letters. He was always kinda highly strung, you know."

"The letters?" Logan broke in, all thought of his legs forgotten.

Poggs remained silent, apparently intent on studying Logan's left leg. "The skin's a bit red here," he eventually offered uncomfortably. "Not blistered though."

"Poggs, it's kinda nice to know _why_ someone wants to fry you. It makes for a far more deep and meaningful experience," Max told him ironically.

"Who sent you the letters?" Logan insisted.

"The crew who were here before us," Poggs finally muttered, still uneasily avoiding their gaze.

"And?" prompted Max.

'They were full of all kinda stuff…warnings mostly."

Max's gaze flickered to Logan's, noting the intent look on his face.

"Warnings?" he pressed.

"They said people had died up here. No one knew how." Poggs stood up suddenly. "You seem to be okay," he said to Logan. "There's a red area on your left leg. You'll need to watch it – make sure the skin doesn't start to break down."

"Who died?" Logan asked him, not the least bit interested in his medical opinion.

"They didn't say exactly, but I know one, maybe more of their team died. That's why they were leaving. They left the note hidden in some of the equipment for us to find. Scared the hell outta the girls."

"Chad too, I'd say," murmured Max.

"They didn't say anything about how these people died?" asked Logan.

Poggs shook his head.

"So none of you are afraid of the boogey man?" smiled Max.

Folding his arms to ward off some of the chill of the night air, Poggs shrugged shamefacedly. "Money was good and they said we could use the plant for our own 'recreational' purposes."

"Big of them," Max muttered.

"Yeah, well, I know _now_ how stupid I was to get mixed up in all this. I never knew the drugs could do this…that _he'd_ do this," he finished with bleak amazement, sweeping his hand to the fire then back towards Logan.

"You hardly seem like the type to fall for a get-rich-quick scheme," Logan suggested, not unkindly.

"The money was so good, and the others were all in favour of it. I just wanted to get enough to have another go at med school. I don't know what happened, but since the Pulse, my life's been screwed, totally."

"Never too late to change," Logan encouraged him.

_Ever the optimist,_ Max grimaced inwardly. _What century is Logan from, anyway?_

Poggs shook his curly, dark head despondently.

"You could try and put things right. These drugs you're growing – they're nothing but trouble. I have contacts…maybe we could put these guys outta business."

Raising his hand in an ineffectual gesture, Poggs raised his eyes. "Nothing to tell. Never saw them."

"Payment?"

"Straight into our bank account at the end of each month."

As if suddenly aware of the state secrets he was giving away, Poggs began to shuffle his feet and look around as if he thought someone might be listening. "Listen, I gotta go. I'd better get back to the others."

Logan shrugged a little disappointedly at the man's obvious reluctance to speak further but held out his hand for the other to take. "Thanks for everything you did."

Poggs took the hand with some embarrassment. After all, it had been his _supposed_ friend who'd caused so much trouble.

"Remember – even with the Pulse to contend with, it _is_ possible to change," Logan told him quietly, making Max roll her eyes briefly.

Poggs looked at Logan, and Max wasn't quite sure what it was he saw as he looked at a man who'd recently ended up in a wheelchair. Maybe it was what she'd seen in those green eyes many times over the last few months – an intrinsic belief that man is mostly good and that evil can be overcome.

_Damn, he even has me believing it, sometimes. _

Whatever it was, for the first time she saw something that could almost be taken as a smile on Poggs's face, a lightening of his features, a twist to his mouth, even a slight glimmer in his eyes.

"Maybe," he murmured, before he let go of the hand, then turned and walked back towards his campsite.

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Max stole a look at Logan's profile as they walked back to the Aztek along the rather bumpy, winding road that they'd driven along when they'd arrived.

It was so dark now amongst the trees that it was almost impossible for Logan to navigate his way around the various rocks and strewn branches that littered the forest floor in safety, so they'd opted for the road instead as they'd returned from the rarely used, and apparently even more rarely cleaned, toilets.

He was still frowning. He'd been frowning for quite some time now and she still wasn't familiar enough with all his moods to know exactly what it was that troubled or puzzled or intrigued or annoyed him. Maybe it was some other emotion entirely that she hadn't even thought of.

She wondered, with a twinge of guilt, how much of a crap time he'd had by the fire, duking it out with Chad. _Not that he's likely to ever drop the knowledge on how he really felt about it anyway._

_You're obsessing again over something, Logan,_ she muttered to herself as her eyes drifted skyward.

The moon was a long way from its glorious entirety, more likely barely a half moon, but at least the sky remained free of clouds that would have dimmed what moonlight there was.

"Did ya check your legs while you were in there?" Max asked, her voice breaking the silence almost harshly. She'd found only one thing seemed to work well in the draughty, dank toilets, and that was the two fluorescent lights that blazed stubbornly with an unattractive starkness that made everything they illuminated look even worse.

Logan shrugged a little as his arms continually worked to keep his chair moving. "They appear to be still attached to the rest of me," he answered with evasive irony.

Max accepted the fact that he didn't want to talk about it but it made it all the harder for her to broach the subject of what had happened by the campfire.

Two things bothered her.

The first being how lame would she would sound when she admitted to Logan that she hadn't been there to watch his back because she was chasing Zack. _He'll probably blow me off with one of his 'it's fine, Max' comments and consider the topic closed, but what if it hadn't been fine. If Poggs hadn't shown up he could have been seriously jammed up by that crank. Is this some whack pattern I'm establishing here? Never being around when he needs me?_

The second thing was Logan's apparent lack of surprise about the contents of the warning letters. That definitely had her thinking. _You've been holding out on me, Logan._

Max stole a look at his profile again. His expression hadn't changed. _No time like the present, _she told herself bracingly.

"When we were kickin' back by the fire, I saw the other boneheads standing under the trees looking at us – thought they were tryin' to play us."

She noticed Logan nod in understanding.

"Turns out they admired your tent," she laughed. "Who'da thunk?"

"Not me," Logan murmured in reply, eyebrows raised.

"I was about t'swing back when I saw Zack. He seemed to be doing some recon or something."

"You spoke to him?" asked Logan with quick surprise, looking across at her.

"Uh uh. Never caught up with him."

"I don't get it. I thought he wanted to speak with you."

Max's only answer was an eloquent shrug of her shoulders. She hoped she looked cool about her brother's actions rather than confused and annoyed. She could feel her cheeks flame with embarrassment as she wondered what Logan thought of it all. She suddenly felt she needed to cover for Zack, think up some reasonable explanation that would explain his unusual actions.

Unconsciously making a face in the dark, Max slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she walked, _As if this whole melodramatic 'meeting in the forest at dawn' dealio isn't strange enough_.

Somehow she felt some kind of responsibility for what he did. It was as if his strange ways reflected badly on her…and to her surprise, she realised that she didn't want Logan to think that all X5s were a little whack.

"Must've been some reason," she told him, cringing at how lame it all sounded, at the slight note of defensiveness that she'd been unable to keep from her voice.

"Guess so," Logan responded evenly, thankfully turning his chair off the road towards their campsite by the river.

"Anyway, that's why I wasn't there…when Chad…"

"Being my legs for Eyes Only stuff doesn't make you responsible for everything that happens to me," he cut in on her coolly, bringing his chair to a stop by the small, collapsible table underneath the awning.

"I never said it did," she replied tersely.

"Good. Just as long as we understand each other," he told her with an edge to his voice as he determinedly swung his chair around to make eye contact with her.

"Maybe we'd understand each other better if you didn't insist on playing all your cards so close to your chest."

'What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you didn't seem all that surprised when Poggs told us that people had died up here."

This time Logan swung away from her and picked up the water container from the ground near his feet. He held it upside down over a cup on the table in the hope of draining a few inches from it. His mouth felt suddenly inexplicably dry.

"I don't quite get what you mean," he stalled, putting off the inevitable as long as possible. He didn't dare risk looking into the velvety, chocolate brown eyes. He knew there'd be nothing of the velvet about them this time - more likely daggers.

"Oh. You want time think about your response?" Max offered obligingly, going over to the makeshift line to check how his wet clothes were drying. His jeans had now been added to the line where his cargoes and T-shirt already hung.

Logan pressed his lips tightly together as he watched her walk away._ It looks like the games up. _He wondered resignedly just how much of the truth he'd have to tell as he raised the cup to his lips.

"Don't drink that!"

Taking a deep breath to recover from the slight start she'd given him, and in an effort to hold onto his temper, he ground out, "Why not? _You_ drank it."

Once he'd established that there was not a single drop left in their drinking water, Logan had simply poured some of the river water that Max had collected into his cup.

"Revved up girl, remember?" she smiled glibly. "Who knows what bugs and parasites are havin' a deep sea dive in that," she said, taking the cup from him as she spoke. _And I didn't know about people dying mysteriously up here at the time, Logan._ Not that that probably would have stopped her, she considered honestly, but Logan definitely didn't need the added complication of a bug in his gut. "We'll have to boil all our drinking water now," she told him aloud. "There's still some Coke in the cooler between the car seats if you're thirsty. I could grab you some."

"Changed my mind. I'll have coffee instead," Logan told her shortly, adding ironically, "If that's all right with you?"

"Sure," Max smiled, "maybe then you'll tell me why you've been holding out on me?"

Logan could feel himself tensing, but he hid it beneath a glower of exasperation. "I'd heard some rumours of some strange goings-on up here," he admitted.

"What type of goings-on?" asked Max suspiciously.

"Word was that a few people had died up here – no one knew how. But they were just rumours, Max," he insisted, "not even from a reliable source."

Max's tone of voice was becoming increasingly colder. "And you knew about this and you never told me?"

"What was there to tell? Besides, I knew whatever I said you'd come anyway."

"Reality check, Logan. I don't need a bodyguard," she spat out in arctic accents.

"Well, I'm never likely to be that, am I, Max?' he snapped, regretting instantly that he'd let himself be goaded into even hinting at some of his own insecurities.

The daggers suddenly softened into a velvety blur. "I didn't mean…"

"I just thought it might be a good idea to have someone watching your back," Logan interrupted quickly, preferring to return to their argument in the hope that she hadn't noticed the chink in his armour. "Simple as that."

"So, what, you planning to rush off headlong into some Eyes Only exposé now, Logan?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead."

Max folded her arms uncompromisingly. "My only mission up here is to contact Zack." _And to keep you outta trouble_, she added to herself wryly.

"I never said your mission had to be compromised."

Max suddenly shrugged with exasperation. "Maybe it is already. Maybe that's what tonight was all about. If only you'd told me, Logan, maybe I could have done something, and maybe you wouldn't have nearly ended up being barbecued."

"We have no way of knowing of that," Logan insisted stubbornly.

"Yeah?" Max rounded on him. "You think I would have gone running off into the night and left you by yourself if I'd had all the facts!"

"I never said I blamed you," he answered her in surprise.

"I know…but," _I blame myself. _"I'm just pissed-off that it could have been avoided."

Logan shrugged fatalistically, abruptly changing the subject in an attempt to diffuse the issue. "You want coffee?"

Max watched him spoon the coffee into the percolator. "You haven't told me what you intend on doing?"

Logan paused and looked up at her. What she saw in his eyes made her heart sink. "Max, people may be dying up here."

"They're airheads, Logan – just as likely to kill themselves before anyone else does. How do you know that's not what happened?"

"Maybe it did, but they're still someone's son or daughter or brother or whatever. Each one of them is an identity that deserves more than an unexplained death, Max."

"It's not my problem. My only goal is to meet with Zack and save Brin. What are these whack-jobs to you anyway. After what Chad did to you tonight! It's not like you owe them anything!"

Logan stared up at her with exasperation. "Fine, you don't wanna stick around here after you see Zack in the morning, that's okay with me. You could probably hitch a ride back to Seattle. There are plenty of trucks traveling this route."

Max just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." _Of course I'd leave you up here by yourself with rumours of strange deaths, not to mention leaving you to pack up the camp by yourself._

"Max, I mean it," he insisted.

"Forget it, Logan. Not gonna happen."

Logan looked up at her from under his lashes, then down again to the hand that rested on his leg. The instant he paused, an incredible fog of battle-weariness stole over him, numbing even his ability to think.

"Logan?" Max prompted him.

"Max, can we leave this till the morning?" he asked, unconsciously rubbing at his forehead where the skin creased in a frown.

"Sure," Max responded in a clipped tone. She wasn't happy, wasn't even sure that she should leave him to meet Zack in the morning.

Logan looked about, saw nothing of life-saving urgency that he had to do, and reversed his chair so that he could lift himself up onto the tailgate.

Max watched him distractedly as he positioned himself, only seeing the uncertainties of the next day. "You know it might be a good idea if you come with me when I see Zack," she said aloud, voicing her concerns.

For the moment Logan couldn't answer as he hauled himself up what felt like the face of a cliff. Grunting with the effort and hoping desperately that he wasn't going to embarrass himself in front of her, he eventually sensed his hips were up far enough and eased himself back on the tailgate away from the edge.

Max tried not to notice how much effort it took him. It would only add to her concerns. He probably just needed a good night's sleep she thought hopefully.

Logan considered Max's suggestion as he went to reach down for his chair, intending to dismantle it.

"Why don't you leave it here? I can watch it for you while you sleep," she suggested.

"Okay," he agreed, relieved that he wouldn't need to go through the difficulty that he had that morning.

"So, about meeting Zack?" Max prompted.

"I can't imagine that I was ever a part of his invitation," he told her bluntly and he wasn't thrilled with the idea that she thought she had to baby-sit him now.

Max shrugged. "Well, circumstances are a bit different now, aren't they."

Logan looked at her tiredly and nodded. She had that 'my mind's made up' look on her face.

Logan started to drag himself backwards towards his bed when he stopped and said hesitantly, "Max, I never meant to come between you and your rendezvous with Zack."

"Well, you're sure as hell not, as far as I'm concerned."

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Max paced restlessly outside the Aztek, stopping every once in a while to rotate Logan's clothing in the hope that it would be dry by morning – even if he did end up smelling like he'd been sleeping in a smokehouse.

Even with the blazing fire beside her, the chill night air was beginning to steal into her clothing, finding the vulnerable places where her short sweater only just met the top of her jeans.

The sheriff had been right – it was a much colder night than the previous one. At the thought of the sheriff her lips curled in suspicious derision and a mental boot to her own ass. She should have picked up on Logan's strangely _un_curious response to the sheriff's veiled warnings when they were down by the river.

_You're slipping Max._

Logan wet, dripping, green eyes, long lashes.

_What is it about water that makes a man look so damned sexy,_ she wondered. _Okay, okay, so? I was a little distracted at the time._

Max paced again, her eyes ever-vigilant, checking the muted shadows of the surrounding forest with eagle-eyed precision. She wasn't going to be caught napping again, she promised herself.

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Logan lay in bed for a surprisingly long time before he fell asleep. His body screamed exhaustion at him, but his mind stubbornly refused to shut down.

Every now and again he caught the sound of Max's pacing. It did nothing for his own state of mind that she appeared to be restless too.

_Well, she said she never sleeps. _But he remembered vividly the one time he had watched her sleep, stroking her forehead, soothing the lines of pain from her forehead, watching her perfectly shaped, full lips relax until they opened slightly and she sank into a deep slumber.

_She trusted you Logan. More than that, she didn't want you to leave._

"Of course she trusted me. I'm not much of a threat in that thing."

_She wanted you to be there._

"She was scared, feeling ill. No one wants to be alone when they feel that way."

_Then why do you push her away when you feel like that?_

"I don't need her help."

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Max watched him while he slept. He seemed to be restless, maybe even in discomfort or pain. She thought back to his, 'Not in any pain, good and bad news of a blown out spinal chord,' bravado. It had only taken a few short minutes of reading up about spinal chord injury on the internet to dispel that myth. Still, it was typical of Logan to downplay anything like that in regard to himself. Perhaps it had been his way of telling her that nothing worked, no sensation, no walking - my condition is absolute, irreversible.

She wondered who had taught him to hide his pain. How old had he been when the walls had gone up?

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The river glistened with silver reflections that danced ethereally on its surface.

A single, white owl watched silently as she rose from the water, each droplet falling like a shimmering jewel. Even her dark hair seemed to shine as if she was covered in a delicate silvery shawl of finest gossamer.

She smiled when she saw him.

He turned around to see if there was someone behind him. Just in case.

When he looked again she was still standing in the shimmering water, holding out her hand in a welcoming gesture.

Without thought, he stepped forward. How could he not? His whole body felt on fire for her.

With a start he realised that he remembered this feeling. He remembered vaguely that he hadn't felt this alive for a long time.

He stepped into the water, amazed to see the silvery ripples and feel the icy cold water between his toes.

"Logan."

She was calling him now.

When he looked up at her he saw a provocative smile playing on her lips.

He knew that smile. He knew what it said. It had been bestowed on him countless times – but never by her.

The thought made him pause.

"Logan."

There'd be no going back, he realised, but the almost overwhelming desire to feel her in his arms carried him forward.

She didn't look surprised when he put his hands either side of her face and gently lifted her face to his.

He was trembling so much now he could hardly stand.

"Logan," she breathed in his ear, in an almost silent whisper.

This time he looked at her upturned face and slowly put his lips to hers.

He heard her moan with desire but suddenly there was a roaring in his ears.

He pressed against her lips even harder this time but the roaring in his ears only magnified until he could hardly think.

It was then that he fell back from her in horror.

He'd felt nothing. It had been as if his lips had kissed air.

Totally confused he put a hand to his mouth and traced the area where he knew it to be. His hand felt skin, the roughness of his unshaven face, teeth, the wetness of his tongue.

And it was as if they belonged to someone else.

"Logan?"

She was looking at him in confusion now, and all he wanted to do was run from her.

And then he was falling, and the water was rushing over his head and he couldn't decide if it was better to just let go.

"Logan? Logan?"

Her hand pulled at his shoulder, gripping it with a force strong enough to make him want to cry out.

"Logan!"

His eyes shot open.

"I think you were having a bad dream," brown eyes that seemed to see through to his very soul, told him tentatively.

"Was I?" he lied anyway, putting a shaky hand to his damp forehead.

Max knelt beside him, peering down at him in concern.

Still with more than half of his senses in his dream world, he found his eyes drawn to her lips, noticing their fullness, the perfection of their shape, the way they moved.

"… should stay here."

Suddenly snapping back to full alertness, he realised that she'd been speaking to him but his mouth was so dry that he could barely form the words to ask her what she'd said.

Swallowing hard and running his tongue over his moisture starved lips, he struggled up on his elbows as some modicum of sense returned to him.

"Time to meet Zack?" he grated out in a rough voice.

Max just looked at him, handed him his glasses, then said, "Wait here," and disappeared out the flap.

Logan let his head loll back in disgust with himself, then reminding himself that Max expected something of him, he slowly dragged himself upright until he was leaning against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

By focusing long enough, he discovered that the little finger on his left hand didn't appear to be aching. _It's a start_, he thought wryly, remembering belatedly Bling's advice not to overdo things.

Logan looked up to see Max return with a cup. He desperately hoped it would be coffee – at this point he even thought he could take a leaf out of Jonas's book and down a bloody Mary.

Max held the cup out for him. It was water.

Logan hid his disappointment and drank the boiled river water like a man who'd been lost in the desert for a week.

"Thanks," he told her in a smoother, lubricated voice before glancing at his watch. "How much time do we have before we have to be at the rendezvous?"

The thought of having to use his aching muscles for any sort of exercise in the near future filled him with dread, let alone having to push himself up the incline towards the homestead site.

"I've been thinking about that," Max told him in the tone of one who's actually done a lot of thinking on the topic.

Logan raised his eyebrows at her.

"I think I was being overly cautious last night, and it's a long way there and who knows if Zack will even turn up so…"

With a slightly self-conscious smile she passed him his gun. It was loaded.

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_To be continued_


	7. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Thanks so much to all those who've reviewed – the feedback means a great deal to me!

My thanks to Alaidh for finding the time to beta this for me – an expert and amusing job as usual!

**A/N: The lines with asterisks denote lines I've taken from an original draft script for BBWW. I thought it would be interesting to add them as it shows the writer's original ideas on what Zack would have said to Max.**

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CHAPTER 7

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Dawn - the delicate time of promise and wild hope that one clung to precariously before it was, in all probability, seared by the reality of the coming post-Pulse day.

Sometimes, even Max dared to hope as she watched the first tentative approaches of the new day from the Space Needle.

Was it wrong to hope that maybe her screwed-up life would somehow make sense?

How often had she wondered this as she watched the invasion of light gradually sweep across the sky, forcing the darkness to slink off in disgrace.

Here in the forest, the birth of the new day was even more intense, more captivating, more startlingly clear as her razor-sharp senses detected each fresh nuance through the filmy grey of earliest morning.

He was waiting for her.

She had known this time with certainty that he would be there.

The slight swirls of mist that dared to linger as sunrise approached gave the hill an almost gothic, eerie impression as it hovered wraithlike around the solitary remains of the homestead chimney and brushed a wispy arm over the embossed angel and the names of those it now fruitlessly protected.

He was dressed completely in black, but his fair head was uncovered. He leant against the monument to the dead children quite irreverently. Max wondered if he'd even read it – and if he had, would he have cared? Manticore didn't teach you to mourn unknown children who had died nearly one hundred years previously.

Manticore hadn't even let them mourn children who had died in front of their very eyes.

She could tell by something in his attitude that he knew she was there. She wondered why he didn't look at her, speak to her, maybe comment about the weather. After all, this whole thing was his deal.

How like Zack to remain almost insolently silent.

Max approached without a word until she was standing in front of him. Only then did he raise his head.

"Got your note," she murmured with a shrug, standing in front of him, one hand on her hip, as if she'd just walked over to him from the opposite corner of a room.

Cold, blue eyes examined her impassively. "I never expected you wouldn't."

Max noted the way his breath vaporised slightly in the cold, morning air as if he'd been smoking a cigarette. Instantly, she ridiculed her own thought -she couldn't imagine Zack ever smoking. She strongly suspected that, in spite of himself, he'd have way too much respect for the finely tuned body he'd been given to trash it with nicotine.

Max's eyes swept the clearing vigilantly, even though she knew Zack would have done as much. Her vision was piercingly accurate regardless of the pale grey, murky light that leant a surreal quality to their rendezvous.

"Why all the cloak and dagger stuff?" she asked.

Zack's eyes never left her face. "I wanted to be sure that the site was secured, that you weren't followed." After an almost imperceptible pause he added, "That you'd be alone."

Max waved a hand, before returning it to her hip. "Looks like we scored big on all of the above."

Zack drew a breath. "Not quite."

Max's eyes narrowed. She'd left Logan alone back there. If the site wasn't secure… "What d'you mean?" she asked sharply.

"You brought _him_ with you." His tone was flat save for the slight stress he placed on the second pronoun.

"Actually, Logan brought _me_," she countered, relieved that this was all he meant, but decidedly annoyed by his tone. "Which was just as well or I would've been hanging around this campground for two nights with no way to _camp_. If you recall, your rendezvous was for yesterday morning," she reminded him tartly.

"Is this what you do, Max? You get your boyfriend involved in _our_ business?"

"I told you before, he knows everything about me…and he's not my boyfriend."

**XX** "For a non-boyfriend, he's certainly extended himself on your behalf," mocked Zack.

Max stared at him, perplexed and angry with his manner. "What has Logan got to do with your no-show yesterday morning?"

"I had to be sure that you had your head in the game. What was I to think, Max?"

Max shook her head, knowing that she shouldn't be surprised by his attitude, but disappointed with it nonetheless. _Does he have to be so suspicious of everyone…Logan…even me?_

"What game?" she spat out. "The only game I'm interested in is the one to get Brin back. That_ is_ why you contacted me…_isn't it Zack?"_

If he found those flashing, brown eyes disconcerting, he gave no appearance. "The trail's cold. I have no intel on Brin."

Max stared at him with astonishment, vaguely aware of the surge of disappointment that flooded over her. "If it's not about Brin, then what the hell was this all about?" she stormed.

"It's all about you, Max," was the quiet reply.

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Logan stared blankly at the gun Max had left by his side, vaguely noting the metallic zzzrrrrrr as Max zipped the flap of the tent closed from her side before disappearing into the darkness of pre-dawn.

The intensity of the dream still clung to his mind. He'd begun to hate his dreams. They were too real, too vivid, too…everything, he thought bleakly.

Even as he tried to forget it, his mind taunted him with the thought – _what would it really be like to kiss Max?_

"Something _you'll_ never know, Logan," he told himself flatly as he reached forward and picked up the flashlight Max had left turned on by his side next to the gun.

Trying to remember where he'd stashed his bag before slumping exhaustedly onto the air mattress the previous night, Logan shone the beam around the car's interior. His bag wasn't where he'd remembered leaving it. Instead it was now within arms reach by his side and, to his surprise as well, he found his previously wet clothes from yesterday now dried and folded more or less neatly on top of it.

"Someone's been busy," he muttered to himself as he pulled back his sleeping bag and prepared to dress. He had no clear idea of what he was going to accomplish by getting up at such an unseemly hour – he couldn't remember the last time he'd been up so early that he'd had to get dressed while it was still dark. It just didn't feel right to lie in bed while Max was at her rendezvous. He'd decided that he wasn't going to let Max down and, if by some strange occurrence she needed his help, he intended to be ready. Besides, Zack was up at this hour, so, if for no better reason than that, he decided that he would be too.

Once he got moving, his aches and pains from the previous day seemed to subside, which was a relief. It was freezing outside the tent, eerily silent and dark. Having lowered himself into his chair, he quickly reached back into the car for his warm jacket and gloves, thankful for the added warmth as he pulled them on. For a moment, an image of his apartment appeared in his mind. It would be blissfully warm even at this hour of the morning, regardless of the cold outside, aglow with its soft light, steam rising in the bathroom from the heat of the shower, the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen, maybe the smell of toast cooking as he booted up his computer.

"Logan, you're getting soft," he reprimanded himself as he wheeled over to the table and lit the gas lantern.

Looking around, he could see that Max had been busy out here, too. With raised eyebrows, Logan noticed that the water container was now half full and a sign made from a scrap of paper read 'boiled water', and the cooler that she'd put in the car last night to discourage raccoons, was once again sitting on the ground next to the table.

It looked like his theory of not having to ask her for help seemed to be working - maybe a little too well. He'd never intended for her to anticipate his every need, even worse, spend time considering all the things he was now unable to do without some assistance. With a dark frown he picked up Max's 'boiled water' sign, scrunched it into a ball and threw it several feet into the darkness.

"Oh my God! Help me! Please...please..."

Startled, Logan turned suddenly and squinted in the direction of the voice. The rest of the sentence dissolved into an unintelligible garble, punctuated by something that sounded like a series of harsh sobs.

This time Logan wasted no time whatsoever in grabbing his gun from the back of the car as the voice came steadily closer.

He was only just in time. Even as he raised it to point it in the direction of the voice, the speaker materialized from the surrounding darkness and stumbled towards him.

Realising that the gun would be useless, Logan tossed it into his lap so that he could use both hands to grab onto the shoulders of the figure now virtually slumped at his feet, still crying out incoherently even as she tried to pull away from him and stand. "You've gotta come...come," she screamed at him, eyes that were wild with some unknown terror half-hidden by her dishevelled hair.

"Lucy...what is it?" he asked her in a firm, measured tone that was totally at odds with her own hysteria.

"It's Poggs. He's not moving or breathing," she choked out fearfully. "I think he's dead."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Max's eyes never left Zack's face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I got some intel Max - something's goin' down in Seattle. I want you outta there."

"Lydecker?" Max queried sharply.

Zack's blue eyes locked with hers. "Maybe."

"Maybe? You brought me all the way up here on a _maybe_?"

Zack's face hardened, but he kept his voice level and controlled. "You need to trust me in this, Max."

Max closed her eyes and looked away as disappointment flooded her soul. All this while she'd been hoping...had convinced herself that Zack had a scheme to rescue Brin.

"He knows you're in Seattle now. I've got a feeling he's gonna try something," Zack continued persuasively.

His words barely registered with Max - all she could see was Brin lying on her lap in the car, her face already horribly aged and withered like an old hag in one of Grimm's Fairytales. _"I don't want to die. Please...don't let me die."_

"We promised her, Zack," was all she could get out. To have found Brin then to have lost her so quickly was a bitter pill to swallow, as was her guilt that she _should_ have found a way to save her…tried harder.

"You think I don't remember that?" Zack retorted sharply. "I haven't given up on her, but I need to make sure that you're safe. Lydecker knows what you look like now!"

"That's what Logan said, too," she murmured distractedly, still staring unseeingly at the gradually emerging outlines of the trees as the mist and darkness began to lift.

Zack's eyes narrowed at the mention of that name.

**XX** "So, this non-boyfriend of yours... is he in love with you or something?"

"No," Max responded flatly, Zack's words causing her to quickly turn her full attention back to her brother. She met his gaze unflinchingly as he studied her with cool appraisal.

**XX** "That's not the take away I'm getting."

**XX** "Logan's not that stupid...or that reckless. And anyway, it's not something I'd ever let happen."

"Well, you seemed happy enough the last few days...running around playing Girl Scout for him. Seems to me like he's got you wrapped around his little finger...fetching water, collecting wood, making fires..."

Max's face reddened. "What I do is none of your business."

"I make it my business if what you do is gonna get you captured by Lydecker. I lost Brin - I don't aim to lose you as well."

"Do you make it your business by spying on me?" Max spat out, angry and embarrassed to learn that he'd been watching her all that time. "Why didn't you just contact me as soon as you saw me?"

"Like I said, I needed to be sure that your head was in the game," Zack reiterated, but this time Max felt instinctively that his words didn't quite ring true. Somewhere, a vague suspicion began to form in her mind.

"A dawn rendezvous, miles from Seattle, rough terrain…it's all beginning to add up," she murmured wonderingly. "It's the one place you figured Logan wouldn't come," she told him, her words becoming surer with each sentence. "You knew about the deaths here, didn't you? They were another reason you figured I'd never bring Logan up here. Only thing is, Logan never dropped the knowledge on me about whack things goin' on. Guess he figured the same way you did, huh," she finished ironically.

Zack shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you alone," he admitted, "Away from other…influences."

There was no apology in his tone, no embarrassment at being caught out. She saw only the same ruthlessness she'd seen when he admitted to killing Vogelsang. For a split second, a chilling thought entered her mind - just how far would he go to achieve his end? It was a remote spot…there was no one around…if Logan were to disappear…

_Hey, Max, this is Zack you're talking about, _she cut in on the insidious thought harshly, _not Lydecker!_

"I was hoping to talk some sense into you," Zack pressed on. "You can't go on like this, Max. While you've got your head in the sand about leaving Seattle, Lydecker'll have your ass."

"It's my head, my ass and my life," she retorted. "So, I guess you were hoping Logan'd just drive back to Seattle and leave me here when you didn't show yesterday morning?"

Zack ignored her question. "If you're weak and stay in Seattle because of him, you're gonna end up dead or caught like Brin."

**XX** "It's a weakness to want to be happy?" she asked incredulously.

XX "If the price is getting killed or captured, yeah, it's a weakness."

Max spoke softly, but with purpose. "I thought we left Manticore to get away from that kinda talk."

"Max, I can't help you if you won't obey my commands."

Max just looked at him with bemusement. "I stopped obeying 'commands' the night we left that hellhole."

"That's it then, Maxie?" Zack finally asked, with a touch of bitterness, after a long pause.

"I guess it is," she replied, her face as set as his.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun had continued to rise with an irreverent disregard for those who faced life changing decisions and traumatic circumstances, and for those who breathed their first breath or took their very last that morning.

Max took one final look at Zack as he stood in the clearing. He watched her departure with a cold stare that was at such odds to the bright cheeriness of the sun's rays that touched his head, making his dark blond hair look even fairer.

With a sigh, Max headed down the steep part of the sloping path. She hadn't wanted to make Zack unhappy, well, angry was probably closer to the mark, she admitted.

This Zack was a stranger to her. He wasn't the one she'd envisaged meeting all those times over so many past lonely years. She wondered what upset him most - was he angry because he felt that she was putting herself in danger or because she wasn't following his orders? Then there was his attitude to her friendship with Logan. _Is he totally whack? Hasn't he ever made any friends, in all this time, over all these years?_

_Can't he ever get away from Manticore's shadow?_

A mirthless grin crossed her face as the irony of the situation struck her.

_Both Zack and Logan knew there was some flake on the loose up here, both fed me some half-assed yarn, both figured I'd never have had Logan tag along if I'd had the 411 but they both figured I'd do the meet by myself even if I'd heard about anyone getting greased up here. To top it all off, they both think they've got my back! Right, like I need it!_

She took a deep breath. It was proving hard to convince her head that she was satisfied with the outcome of her meet with Zack, so she purposefully turned her thoughts to other matters. _Logan. _Instinctively she quickened her pace.

There was nothing to keep her here now – they could break camp and head home. _Home – _the word sounded nice, warm, welcoming. Logan could get back to his computers and perfectly appointed apartment, including his perfectly appointed kitchen._ He can cook me dinner when we get back to make up for holding out on me, _she decided with a dark look.

She continued down the path until she came out at the main camping area. It was deserted, as it had been since their arrival. The fluorescent light still shed it's ugly, white light in the dank toilets when she stopped in there on her way back to their campsite. She looked longingly at the rusty showerheads. Obviously no hot water had been available here for a long time. While she washed her hands, a mouse scurried out from behind one of the pipes by her feet and into a deep crack in the brick wall. Max ignored it, instead staring at her distorted reflection in the piece of shiny metal that was meant to pass for a vandal-proof mirror. Many people had told her she was beautiful, but today she could only remember two remarks - _They did a good job on you, Max/ the singularly most beautiful face I've ever seen._

Which words meant the most, she wondered, those of the soldier or the playboy?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Logan?" Max called out when she got back to the Aztek.

She was a little surprised to find his chair nowhere in sight, knowing that she'd left it by the back of the car for him.

A quick look inside their tent revealed it to be empty, as she'd expected. She also noted that his cargo pants were no longer in the pile of dry clothing she'd left on his bag, the flashlight was nowhere to be seen, and the gun was gone.

Within seconds she jumped down from the back of the SUV, and turned her attention to the still dewy grass. She could clearly make out two sets of footprints approaching their tent and one set clearly came from a car that had been parked close to the Aztek only recently.

Without any doubt, next to the footprints, were wheel marks from Logan's chair.

Max immediately followed them, a puzzled frown on her face. She had to suppose that Logan had gone willingly – the footprints were next to his chair, not behind it. Her frown deepened, however, as she considered the possibility that someone could have been holding a gun on him.

A glimpse of white on the ground had her reaching down and picking up a scrunched up piece of paper that looked very familiar.

"Dammit, Logan. Just what are you up to now?"

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_To be continued._


	8. Morningtown Ride

Many, many thanks to all those who reviewed – it was very much appreciated as always.

And to Alaidh, 'Sleepless in Seattle'…is there anyone who knows more about VW campervans than my beta! Thank you for the endless stream of links to every combination of campervans and awnings imaginable and for your fine, grammatical touches.

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DEEP, CHAPTER 8

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Logan gripped Lucy's shoulders even harder. "What are you talking about? You _think _Poggs is dead?" he stressed, green eyes clearly confused behind the steel framed glasses.

Her only reply was another anguished sob that shuddered its way through her slim body – a slim body that, since yesterday, seemed to have become frail and old beyond its years.

"_Lucy!"_ Logan snapped, trying to hold on to his rising frustration. If there was some doubt about Peter's death, then a quick response was essential. Maybe there was still time…

He looked up abruptly as the sudden roar of a car's engine being revved hard broke the eerie pre-dawn silence. He could see its yellowish headlights in the distance as it approached in an erratic fashion. Sometimes it appeared to be travelling along the main campsite road and at other times veering far enough from it to be nearly hitting trees.

Logan let go of Lucy and grabbed for his gun again. The thought crossed his mind that, not only were the mornings warm and cosy in his apartment, they were also generally remarkably uneventful. He showed no sign of surprise, save gripping the handle of his gun more firmly and a slight tightening of his lips, when the car veered off the path and continued until it came to a skidding halt only a matter of feet from where he and Lucy sat.

Lucy paid no attention at all to the car's arrival. It was as if she'd used up her last reserves of control in running to the Aztek and now she could do no more than sit in abject distress, slumped at Logan's feet.

Feeling considerably tense, Logan held his gun in both hands and trained it on the car as he squinted in its direction. Its bright lights, still on high beam, blazed blindingly in his eyes. The abrupt cessation of the motor made the silence of the morning seem incredibly loud. Where were the birds, he wondered at the back of his mind. Usually at this time of day there'd be the beginnings of a wild cacophony, but this particular morning the air remained eerily silent.

Logan took a long breath as a discordant grind of metal indicated a door was being opened. Without hesitation, he cocked the gun he held steadily in his hand and called out warningly, "Don't come any closer."

"It's just me. Beth," a tremulous voice replied. "I came for Lucy."

"You alone?"

"Uh huh."

Logan slowly lowered his gun and raised his flashlight as the slight figure of the blonde-haired girl materialised from the dazzle of the car's lights to stand a few feet away from him. With a rush of deep regret, Logan could clearly see her anguished expression even by flashlight – her face bore all the hallmarks of unmistakable grief. He had to conclude that Lucy had not been in the grip of some wild, drug-crazed hallucination when she'd rushed up to his campsite – Beth was clearly similarly affected by whatever had occurred.

"Lucy?" the blonde girl was whispering nervously.

"What happened to Poggs?" Logan asked her softly, suspecting now that he was already too late.

Beth, now squatting down next to her sobbing friend, raised a frightened face to Logan and said in a barely audible voice, "He's dead."

Even though he had thought he was prepared for this answer, he still froze for a second with a numbing sense of disbelief. It was less than twelve hours since Poggs had come to his aid by the fire…and now he was dead? A hundred questions raced through Logan's mind – the foremost one being, "How?"

Almost as the word left his mouth, Beth, clearly following her own train of thought, asked worriedly, "Can you help us? What about your girlfriend?" she added hopefully, looking around for Max. "I don't know what to do…Chad, the scumbag," she put in venomously, "an' Lenny are packing. They say we gotta blaze…that they'll be here soon - but how can we just dump Poggs?" she quavered piteously. "How do we just leave him?"

"Who are _they_?" Logan frowned at once, involuntarily glancing through the final veil of darkness towards the road.

"I dunno, but he said they'll come and if we don't blow now we'll end up in the hands o' the cops, so I grabbed the keys and followed Lucy…figured she might come here to you guys. That SOB was gonna go without her," she finished scathingly, but Logan thought he detected a trace of fear beneath the scorn.

Logan dropped the flashlight on his knees and gripped his wheels, quickly glancing towards the beat-up Chevy the blonde haired girl had driven up in. His words were thoughtfully terse.

"Where's Poggs now?"

"Our van," Beth choked, blindly reaching out for the hand of her friend so that her grief could be shared.

Logan thought swiftly for a second. His one thought was to get a look at the body.

"Beth, if you'll drive me to your van, I'll do whatever I can to help."

Beth nodded her head at his suggestion, her face suffused with relief at the prospect of help.

Standing up, with surprising strength in one so slight, she managed to pull the still dazed Lucy to her feet, and guided her towards the car while Logan followed.

He briefly considered leaving a note for Max and whether he should leave his laptop in the car or not, but one look at the frantic glances Beth was throwing his way convinced him to dismiss both thoughts.

_Max should understand,_ he reasoned hopefully.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Logan had only just clicked his seatbelt in place when Beth drove off with an uncontrolled spin of her wheels on the dewy grass.

"Headlight's might help," he suggested helpfully when they missed a tree by a matter of inches.

"Oops," she murmured distractedly as she spun the wheel to take the car back to the road.

"What's Chad so afraid of? Why's he in such a hurry?" Logan prodded her as he kept a wary eye out the front windshield and grabbed onto the door handhold.

"He's scared…big time…and I don't think it's the stuff that's talking either. He's totally lost it," she said quietly, turning briefly to look at Logan seated beside her with a look of total confusion before grinding the gears with yet another screech of protest.

"What do you know about Poggs?" Logan asked gently, even though he was uncomfortably aware of Lucy's presence in the back seat. It was a bit like talking behind someone's back when they were standing right in front of you.

Logan had watched Beth guide her dark-haired friend to the car as he followed the pair. Lucy had seemed to be totally incapable of coherent thought or action – even one as simple as opening the car door. Her sobbing had stopped, for the most part, but now he could hear a constant muttering coming from where she sat, hunched in her own world of misery. For a while he wondered if she was praying, until he realised grimly that her desolate, pleading mantra was, "Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead."

"I couldn't sleep – we were all a little freaked out by what Chad did last night," Beth explained, with an apologetic glance towards Logan that made him wish she didn't consider his feelings, but rather, kept her eyes on the road as they narrowly avoided a huge bush that unexpectedly loomed in front of their car. "But Poggs was really upset by it all. I heard him telling Lucy that things had to change…that_ he_ had to change…I think he meant it," she added carefully, as though she was giving testimony to a police detective. "He told Lucy that you'd given him hope…that maybe they could start again. I was so jealous," she added, with a candor Logan found surprising.

"Beth, I need to know _how_ he _died_."

"I don't have a clue," she responded at once, with ingenious sincerity. "I heard him tell Lucy that he was gonna go for a walk – maybe a swim – then I fell asleep."

"He wasn't meeting with anyone? What about these people Chad's so worried about?"

"I don't know who they are. I've never met anyone up here except the sheriff."

Feeling like he was getting nowhere fast, Logan said flatly, "So there's nothing you can tell me – you woke up and Poggs was dead?"

"We're here," Beth cut in on him in a strained voice as she brought the car to a jerky halt.

Logan looked about warily. He wasn't looking forward to another confrontation with the highly-strung Chad. _At least it'll be dawn soon,_ he thought to himself as he waited for Beth to get his chair from the trunk. For the first time, he had a chance to sit back and discern the almost imperceptible lighter shading in the darkness of the sky. With an unconscious grimace he supposed that Poggs wouldn't be alive to see it.

Not entirely sure of his reception, Logan kept his gun on hand once he'd transferred to his chair. Following the two girls, he cautiously made his way over to where he supposed Poggs was to be found, trying to think up some reason that sounded probable as to why he should be permitted to see the body should the other two men protest.

They'd only gone a few feet before Chad and Lenny came rushing from the van.

"What the frickin' hell do you two morons think you're up to?" screamed Chad abusively. "We gotta get outta here an' you two blaze with the car!" With a quick movement, he reached out to grab Lucy who was still being more or less supported by Beth, when he suddenly caught sight of Logan.

Preempting a possible explosion, Logan said quickly in a calm voice, "I came to help."

Lenny came running up behind Chad at that moment, blinking owlishly, his curly, brown hair standing up every which way.

"You wanna help a dead man?" Chad laughed out loud as he grabbed hold of Lucy and dragged her towards the car. His laughter continued well after its initial burst, its final notes lingering with the hint of barely restrained hysteria.

"No! Lemme go, Chad," Lucy suddenly cried, pulling away from the other's restraining hands. "I can't leave Poggs. Don't make me," she begged the other with pleading eyes.

"Lucy, Poggs is…" Chad began, only to fall into an uncomfortable silence, scarcely able to look into the eyes of the girl before him.

It was Lenny who spoke and his words held a surprising firmness. "Let this guy look at him. Maybe he _can_ help."

"Yeah, well he can do what he likes. I'm blazin'," Chad snapped ruthlessly. "If any of you wanna get outta here – you come with me…now!"

"Only thing is…I got the car keys," Beth retorted, quickly tossing them across to Lenny, who in turn shoved them into his jacket pocket.

"Looks like we wait a few minutes," he told his friend firmly.

Chad looked from one to the other, nervously flexing the fingers of his right hand. "Okay," he finally relented, as if the choice was solely his. "I'll give you three minutes, but after that…I go," he finished on a warning note.

"He's in the van, right?" Logan asked, looking across to Lenny.

At the other man's nod, he headed around to the other side of the campervan where the stained awning still hung at a crazy angle. Logan could see signs of what he took to be panic and hurried packing both outside the van and inside it.

Under the awning, he had to manoeuvre his way around an upturned assortment of non-matching, dilapidated chairs and a table. He didn't bother to try to avoid running over the scattered remains of a card game; it was unlikely the participants would be hanging around to finish it.

Making his way to the open, sliding door, Logan took a breath and peered inside. Fake, laminated wood, orange and brown check and a liberal smear of filth was the overwhelming décor scheme of the ancient, Volkswagen Campervan. On the wall opposite the door was a small fridge that hadn't been white in a long time and a sink overflowing with unwashed dishes. Looking up, Logan could see a pop-top in the roof of the van that housed a double bed well above his head, but it was the other bed that held Logan's attention.

Peripherally, Logan was vaguely aware of a nauseating, slightly sweet putrid smell emanating from the van, but nothing could detract from the lone figure that he could just see on the bench seat that folded down to make another double bed to the left of the door.

Mindful of Chad's promise that he'd go in three minutes, Logan quickly hoisted himself up and onto the floor of the Volkswagen van.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He looked as though he was sleeping.

Logan stared at him expressionlessly for a moment before steeling himself for the unpleasant task of actually having to touch him. Now that he was this close, he was surprised how squeamish he felt about what he had set himself to do. Knowing he had so little time, without further ado, he hauled himself up until he was sitting on the bed next to Poggs. The man lay supine, his hands loosely clasped together across his body, as if he'd known he'd be lying in state for a procession of onlookers to mourn his passing.

_Only there aren't many here,_ Logan thought darkly, wondering if somewhere Poggs had a mom or a dad who'd wonder why their son never came home.

His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed in the peaceful attitude of a deep slumber but when Logan placed his long fingers on the other man's neck, the coldness of his skin and the complete lack of any pulse gave evidence of a far more permanent state.

He was wearing the same jeans and brown sweater Logan had seen him in the night before. The grey blanket that had apparently been his only covering was now a crumpled heap over his feet. Lifting it, Logan noted that his feet were bare.

Not exactly relishing the task, Logan propped himself up with one hand and lifted the ex med student's sweater with the other, vainly looking for some sign of violence, something…anything, that might give him clue as to how Poggs had died.

Seeing his intention, Lenny, who'd been silently watching from outside, stepped into the van, stooping a little because of his height, and helped Logan turn over the body of his friend. Once again, there was no sign of anything untoward to signify a cause of death – no smashed in skull, strange puncture marks on his arms, unusual bruising…nothing.

Logan stared at the body in perplexity. _What do I know about this kinda stuff_, he wondered a little helplessly. _Maybe Max knows something…_

He'd just put a hand out to check for a possible blow beneath the man's hairline when he suddenly jerked it back. A singularly unattractive, brownish spider with unusual pale orange markings crawled from Poggs's ear and proceeded to slowly make its way down the side of his cheek. Logan squinted with instant distaste. _Of all the places to find a spider - crawling across a dead man's face._

"Damned things," muttered Lenny, reaching out and flicking the spider away with his hand before stomping on it savagely with a huge, black boot. He then twisted his foot and thoroughly ground the carcass into the rubber floor of the van, leaving it to mingle with the ugly, cigarette butts. "They're all over the stupid plants."

Logan instantly had a vivid, fleeting impression of Poggs amongst the plants with spiders dropping onto his head and face like a heavy downfall of furry, eight-legged raindrops.

"The spiders," he got out quickly, "they're not a type I recognise."

"Probably South American," Lenny replied. "That's where the seedlings come from…or so I've heard. There was nothing we could do for him," he continued in a low voice, as he bent down a little towards Logan as if it was somehow irreverent to talk too loudly in the presence of a corpse. Or, Logan thought, maybe it was because it was the body of a man who Logan presumed had been his friend.

"Did he say or do something? Were you _all_ here when he went to bed?"

Beth answered this time from where she sat half-turned in the driver's seat, staring across at Poggs with a scared expression.

"We were _all_ asleep. I only woke up when Lucy started screaming."

Logan looked across to Lucy. It was becoming quite cramped now in the van. She'd perched herself on the very edge of the single seat that was mounted behind the front passenger seat

In the soft light of early dawn, Lucy's face looked horribly white, her eyes swollen and red and ugly.

_Well, grief is ugly,_ Logan thought bitterly, and it was becoming increasingly more prevalent since the Pulse.

With calculating eyes, he wondered how he could connect with her. As a journalist he knew that that was essential in order to break the story, right the wrong…and he knew a little guiltily that he was good at his work. He'd need to be ruthless and force his way past her pain but it was what you did when you had to have answers and there was so little time…_there's always so little time._

"Lucy, we need to talk," he told her firmly in a smooth, rich tone that expected to be obeyed.

Something in his voice made Lucy's eyes flicker from the still form but she still seemed to be unable to focus on anything or anyone else.

"Lucy, were you the last one to talk to Poggs?" Logan continued, with more of an edge to his voice, forcing her to focus on his words. "I want to help you."

Not entirely to his surprise, Lucy slid from the seat and knelt in front of Logan, her eyes once again riveted on the too-still form before her.

"His name is Peter," she murmured almost inaudibly. "Poggs was just a nickname. His real name was some Polish thing or something…not sure what." Suddenly her hazel eyes flickered with a sign of emotion – the beginnings of panic. "Does it matter? He never told me…I never thought it mattered, you know. Not now…not since the Pulse. It's like nothing matters now…does it?"

"Lucy. It's okay," Logan broke in quickly on her ramblings. "I'm just wondering what he was doing…what he said to you. If I can help you find out what happened to him, I will."

He watched her take a long, drawn out, deep breath, but when she spoke it was with a surprising amount of resolve. "He couldn't sleep after what happened last night. He felt real bad about what happened…about what Chad did," she explained, almost unemotionally. "He told me that we had to leave here…that we were wasting our lives." Her voice nearly broke on the last word, but she managed to hold it together, grateful for the squeeze of her hand that Beth, now in Lucy's seat, gave her.

"Then he just lay down and went to sleep?" Logan asked doubtfully.

Lucy shook her head at that and continued in a tremulous voice, "No, that was the whole point. He was too worked up…he couldn't sleep. He told me he wanted to go back to his medical studies…find an honest job."

Logan swallowed hard, pushing himself a little more upright on the bed. He felt an uncomfortable pang of guilt. None of it made any sense. _I only tried to give the guy some hope…not somehow kill him._

"He got up about 3am…said he couldn't sleep…that he was gonna have a swim, maybe go for a walk."

"Did he?" prompted Logan as Lucy paused, presumably momentarily lost in the memory.

"Uh huh," she finally replied with a slight start, as if she was suddenly waking. "When he came back, his hair was still a bit wet. He told me the water was freezing."

"Tell him everything, Lucy," Beth urged her as the other girl's courage and self-control began to falter.

Lucy stared into the eyes of the other girl for a moment, her expression unreadable to Logan from his position, but almost immediately she continued her increasingly stilted recollection of events.

"I woke up when he came back. All he said was that he was really tired…that he just wanted to sleep. He was so tired…he could hardly stand…then he lay down…next to me." By this time, both Lucy's and Beth's tears, were flowing freely.

Looking up at Lenny, Logan found the other man's eyes were swimming with unshed tears as well, his lips pressed together tightly to control a trembling mouth.

"Hey, that's it! We've got to get going right now! Sheriff's coming!"

Chad's abrupt yell made them all look towards the doorway to find a panicked Chad, shoving everything out of his way in his haste to reach the others. "Lenny, gimme the keys. Give me the frickin' keys!" he yelled again when Lenny didn't move.

This time, Lenny didn't argue. Without argument, he immediately dug his hand into his pocket and brought out an assortment of keys then reached down and grabbed a dirty backpack from near his feet.

The prospect of the law arriving had all four of them looking frightened, even Lucy.

"Grab your stuff," Lenny snapped at the girls tersely. "Now, or we go without you!" he added with what Logan considered a rather brutal tone.

Beth let go of Lucy and grabbed another backpack. Hastily her eyes roved the van, checking for anything she might have missed, but Lucy stood as one frozen. "I'm sorry Lucy," she told her simply once she was satisfied that she had all her belongings. "This time we've _got_ to go."

Logan watched silently, understanding the girl's obvious reluctance to leave, but he couldn't see what good she'd do by staying. It would be a pitiful waste of a life if she stayed and ended up, for whatever reason, dead like her boyfriend.

"You have to say goodbye," Beth told her softly.

Lucy moved like one in a daze and rose on her knees until she was hovering over her lover's face. Logan watched her stare intently at his white face as if she were trying to imprint every detail indelibly on her memory. Then as Beth, not unfeelingly, hurried her some more, she bent over and let her warm lips touch his lifeless, cold ones.

Strangely, for Logan, he found himself thinking of his dream – only in his dream it had been his lips that were dead, devoid of feeling…like Peter's. He found the analogy disturbing.

Aware of the sudden trampling of feet and the loud revving of an engine, Logan looked up to find Beth disappearing out the sliding door of the van. Only Lucy paused, stared hard at Poggs, then ran off into the now bright, morning light.

Left by himself in the van, Logan suddenly became aware of the cacophony of sound outside. The birds, he now realized, had probably been squawking their good morning for quite some time.

Not overly keen to be discovered alone with a dead body by a member of the law, Logan scooted back quickly towards the doorway and let his legs hang over the side. Two things struck him immediately. The first was the fact that his wheelchair had been pushed well out of his reach, probably by Chad in his panic to get going, and the second thing was the sound of a powerful car engine just outside the van.

Biting his lip, Logan looked around hastily as he tried to think of a way out of his predicament, or at least some excuse as to his presence there. The only thing that caught his interest was a solitary, mud encased, pair of boots. A little struck by the thought that their owner's legs and feet were now even more lifeless than his own, he started to murmur, "Guess you won't need those where you're going," but the words died on his lips as he realised what he was looking at. He barely had enough time to scrape a clump of the dirt that was stuck to the sole and thrust it into his jacket pocket, before he heard the sound of footsteps very, very close by.

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_To be continued._


	9. Rocky Raccoon

My thanks as always for all the lovely feedback.

Special thanks to Alaidh for her invaluable expertise and patience with the auto correct function.

A/N: I did search the internet for South American spiders, but I couldn't find any quite to my liking so I took the liberty of making this particular species up.

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CHAPTER 9

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The first thing Logan noticed was the gun.

The second thing he noticed, a little disconcertingly, was the manner in which the gun was pointed unwaveringly in his direction.

"Don't you think that's a little excessive for a social visit?" he queried dryly with raised brows as he kept his eyes cautiously fixed on the weapon.

"Shut up and get your arms up," Sheriff Bowie told him tersely.

"I could possibly do one arm, but two could be a bit difficult," Logan answered matter-of-factly, hoping he sounded truthful and wondering just how much trouble he could possibly be in.

"Don't be a smart-ass, boy," the sheriff snapped back. "You've got yourself in what I'd call a _compromising position_."

"There's a gun in my right pocket," Logan told him quietly. "It hasn't been fired, and yes, I have a licence for it."

The sheriff listened without expression as Logan continued in an even tone. "I'll put my hands further behind me, rather than up in the air, then you can remove it from my pocket."

Sheriff Bowie remained silent, but his eyes, that had seemed so genial yesterday, now looked from Logan to the body on the bed behind him with a razor-sharp glare that looked like it would miss nothing.

Following his own instructions, Logan slowly inched his hands behind him until he was half leaning back, then waited while the sheriff cautiously took the gun from his pocket. He kept his gun trained on Logan until he'd completed a quick search of his body with his left hand.

"So, no other weapons," he commented finally.

"Not even a Swiss army knife."

"You the only one here?" the sheriff asked in a business-like tone that mirrored the competency of his body search. There was no hint of the cordial tone he'd previously used when he'd met Logan by the river. Instead, the gun remained firmly focussed on Logan, even though his eyes swept the campervan with well-trained efficiency.

"Were you expecting a welcoming committee?" Logan asked, ignoring the other's question, not sure that he was ready to admit to the fact that he was alone with a corpse.

The sheriff's response was an infinitesimal narrowing of his eyes, but at last he lowered his gun, and his shoulders seemed to relax the smallest amount.

"Where are the others?"

Logan shrugged, shifting his right hand forward again as he felt something sharp digging into the palm of his hand.

Apparently finally convinced that Logan wasn't about to jump him, the sheriff holstered his gun. In a surprisingly quick movement, he jumped up into the campervan, nimbly stepping around Logan, then stood for a few moments by the bed in quiet contemplation.

Logan sat up further and twisted around to watch the sheriff examine the body, lifting himself up a little from the floor of the van to change his position and see fully onto the bed.

Logan couldn't put a finger on it, but Poggs's face, which had looked so peacefully natural only a short while before, had now assumed a slightly, sunk in, almost hollow expression – now clearly a body that no longer held the spark that had made Poggs who he was. Logan slowly lowered himself to the floor again, suddenly struck by the finality of his observation. He found it depressing how quickly life could be extinguished.

With a dark expression, he watched the sheriff sit stony-faced beside Poggs and perform his duty. He was surprised to see him take a cursory pulse check and little else. Nor did he bother to don rubber gloves or be overly cautious about what he touched or moved. Logan had assumed there'd be formalities to be performed, reports to write, _maybe lies to be told,_ he now added with a resentful glare at the sheriff's broad back before turning away.

_Was there anything I could I have done that would've made a difference?_ he wondered with tight-lipped frustration -maybe tried harder to convince Poggs to come clean with him when they'd spoken last night by the fire. _Eyes Only is meant to make a difference,_ he reminded himself, feeling right then as though he did anything _but_ that most of the time.

Suppressing a disgruntled sigh, Logan stared moodily out the door for a few moments before murmuring in a quietly sarcastic tone, "You know that 'big-city trouble' you were aiming to keep out of Murchison Woods…seems like it's already here."

Sheriff Bowie turned and looked down at Logan with something like a scowl. "Is that so?" he barked before turning back to the body.

Finally he made some sort of a sound in the back of his throat as if a definite conclusion had been made, then turned on his haunches to face Logan, who was silently regarding him.

"You might want to tell me what you're doing here…_Mr. Cale."_

Careful to keep the sudden feeling of trepidation from showing on his face, Logan answered easily enough, "What, you want me to give away my little secret… that I come up here and murder people in my spare time?" He'd never introduced himself yesterday – that meant the sheriff had been doing some checking of his own…running licence plates…reading files…_who knows what else._

"Stranger things have happened," the sheriff replied unequivocally.

"Well it'd be kinda hard to do," a voice outside the van interrupted in a tone steeped with sarcasm, "seeing as how he's been with me all morning."

"Obviously you haven't been here the whole morning yourself," the sheriff shot back with no sign of surprise at her presence.

Max shrugged her shoulders with a half-smile. "When a girl's gotta go… You know, the bathroom facilities at this park reeeally suck. I'm thinking of writing a letter to my local politician…give him the heads up. Looks to me like they've been forgetting to put my taxes to work up here," she told the sheriff, with a casual touch of righteous indignation that brought a glimmer of amusement to Logan's expression.

"Thought a young think like you'd be more upset about finding a dead body on your doorstep," the sheriff responded dryly, returning his attention to the dead body.

"Life's cheap nowadays, haven't you heard?" Max shrugged, her large, brown eyes sweeping the interior of the campervan, narrowing slightly as they rested on Poggs's body, then finally resting on Logan with an enquiring look.

Logan barely had time to raise one brow in return before the sheriff jumped down from the van and stood in front of Logan, pinning him with a sharp look. "You know what he died of?"

"Not a clue," Logan replied evenly as he looked up at the balding sheriff, clearly not intimidated by the other's stand-over tactics.

"You wanna tell me what you're both doing up here?"

"We just came for the fresh, mountain air," Max put in promptly, pushing Logan's chair back within his reach.

"I mean what are you both doing in this van?" the sheriff shot back tersely.

"We came to help," Logan put in dryly. "The two girls came running to us…one of them was nearly hysterical."

"You two touch anything here? Until I've established the cause of death, this is a crime scene, you know."

"Really?" Max chimed in with polite interest as she lounged against the doorway.

Sheriff Bowie simply glowered at her, then turned his attention back to Logan who was transferring back to his wheelchair. "I may have to close the park. You two should return to Seattle. Until I find out what this boy died from, I can't guarantee that the same thing won't happen again."

"We'll take our chances," Logan responded lightly as he flipped the brakes up to release them and swung his chair around, deliberately ignoring the disapproving frown the sheriff was directing at him.

"You'd be real wise if you kept your nose out of this and headed back to Seattle," the sheriff called after him as he watched Logan push down hard on his wheels to get his chair moving over the uneven surface.

Max favoured the sheriff with an airy wave, then followed Logan towards their own campsite, admirably managing to hold her tongue until they were out of earshot.

"Sweet. You manage to get jammed up in a murder and wind up the suspect – all before we've even had breakfast," she finally murmured admiringly as she walked by his side along the main road of the camp.

"I'm not a suspect," Logan contradicted her. "He didn't ask nearly enough questions. I'd be surprised if he thought we had anything to do with it at all. I suspect most of that was nothing but show."

"You wanna fill me in on what happened?"

Logan gave her a quick rundown of events, but when he came to the part of Lucy's farewell kiss, for some reason he felt uneasy and skipped over that part, telling himself that Max didn't need to know absolutely everything that went on.

"So, you have any idea who did it…or even how?"

Logan grunted with exasperation as he swung his chair to avoid one of the many large potholes that dotted the roadway. "Don't I wish."

"Well, a guy his age rarely just drops dead all by himself without a little help."

"Mmmm. Told his girlfriend that he couldn't sleep, went for a walk, had a swim, came home tired…unusually tired so Lucy said, then went to sleep…"

"Only he never woke up, huh?" Max added, sticking her hands in her jacket pockets.

"Right."

Something in his tone of voice made Max quickly turn her head in his direction. She noted the frown above his glasses and the narrowing of his eyes as his long fingers alternately gripped and pushed down on the metal rims of his chair in a movement that had become second nature to him now.

"Well, the guy was seriously jammed up, Logan. He was strung out on an experimental, untested weed that he told us induced extreme paranoia."

"He told Lucy he wanted to straighten out his life…maybe go back to med school."

"Guess he left it too late," Max murmured, thoughtfully remembering Logan's words by the campfire the night before. "You don't suppose he was planning to drop a dime? Maybe he finally came real…if Lucy seemed to think he'd had a sudden change of heart…" She let her words trail off a little as she realised Logan was unlikely to feel that he'd done anyone a great service by encouraging him to go straight and then finding that he was killed because of it.

"The only ones who would've known_ that_ were the ones in the van. That would make one of them an informer," Logan answered, his distaste at the possibility evident in his voice.

"Who better to be a mole than one of your own peeps," Max remarked flippantly.

"Or the van was bugged," Logan suggested. "Maybe that's how our industrious sheriff was on the scene so fast."

"Stands to reason whoever's growing the stuff would want to protect their investment…keep tabs on their staff."

"What about kill their staff?" Logan added with a suggestive raise of his brows.

Max sighed inwardly. She could see where all this was heading.

"Well, they've all very sensibly hightailed their asses outta here…which is what we oughtta do."

"All the more reason to make sure it's not too late for the next crop of addicts they trick into coming up here."

"What makes you say there'll be more?"

"Isn't there always?" he asked cynically.

"So, you think it's the drugs that killed him?"

Logan paused while Max took hold of a large branch that was in their way and tossed it to the side.

"The others all smoked it and they're not dead," he pointed out as he watched her effortlessly dispose of the huge limb.

"Leastways, not yet," Max reminded him, brushing her hands together to remove the dirt. "Besides, there are plenty of other ways to grease someone that don't leave an obvious trace."

She spoke with such conviction that Logan queried, "Was that big on the Manticore curriculum?"

"Course - we majored in death," she told him brutally, "in a forest just like this one."

Logan looked up at her, more than a little surprised by the sudden harshness in her tone.

"You've left all that behind now," he told her purposefully.

"You might want to tell Zack that," Max retorted.

"So, you saw him?" Logan asked casually, but there was a hard line to his jaw as he set his chair in motion again with a vigorous push.

"Yup."

Logan pushed on, waiting for her to elaborate on her monosyllabic answer.

"And?" he eventually prompted.

"It wasn't about Brin," Max told him flatly.

"I'm sorry," Logan replied quietly, quick to pick up on the note of disappointment in her voice that she'd tried to hide.

"Yeah, well, win some, lose some, I guess," she shrugged.

Logan was undecided as to whether he should feel relieved that she hadn't elaborated on her meet with Zack, or if it meant that all his worst fears had been realised. The blonde ex-Manticore soldier had made his feelings regarding Logan more than clear the few times they'd met. _Still it's better to know…_

"Max…" Logan began.

"We're being watched," Max interrupted him in a cool voice without breaking her stride.

Having just spent much of the morning with the body of a man who was inexplicably dead, this information was hardly gratifying. "That's just great," he muttered.

"You have your gun?" Max asked quietly, her lips barely moving.

"Yeah," Logan replied quickly, only to just as quickly change to, "No."

"Well, which is it?"

"Sheriff took it," he grunted with a quick upward glance at her as he tried to ignore the almost overpowering temptation to look into the forest and try to see what she had seen.

Max rolled her eyes. "Sweet."

"Thought you didn't approve of guns," Logan reminded her, a little nettled by her sarcasm.

"What I don't approve of is some whack-job stalking us in the forest," murmured Max. She seemed casual as she sauntered beside Logan, but her mind was racing. The forest to their right, where she'd caught sight of the figure, was beginning to thin. In only a matter of feet he'd have no more cover. "Time for a little role reversal," she muttered to herself, suddenly turning to Logan and pointing with casual surprise while saying, "Spider on your shoe."

"What…?" Logan began, at first a little confused by her change of tack. Then, as the word 'spider' registered in his mind, and with it the vivid recollection of the spider crawling from Poggs's ear, he hastily bent down to brush the offending specimen from his foot.

He'd no sooner bent down, when he had a vague sensation of a figure hurtling over his head. Turning his head to the side, he was surprised to see his visitor of yesterday, Tex, lying half-stunned in a heap on the side of the road.

"You!" he uttered with surprise as he pushed himself upright once more, then added, "Max, wait…" as he saw her grab the ex-soldier and drag him to his feet before ruthlessly bending his arm behind his back. "This is Tex. The man I met yesterday morning."

"Cool," smiled Max, tight-lipped. "We won't have to mess with introductions and _Tex_ here can explain to me what kicks he gets outta stalking us."

"Not stalking, girly," Tex replied over his shoulder with unruffled composure, despite the tight grip on his arm. Looking back to Logan, he said, "So, I see they got another one."

Logan's eyes narrowed, but before he had a chance to comment, Max gave the man's arm another shove higher behind his back and snapped, "Spill it! What do you know about all this?"

"Only that you two should get outta here."

"That doesn't exactly answer our question," Logan responded tersely, eyeing the grey haired man curiously. His manner was remarkably relaxed for someone who'd just been tossed ten feet or more by a girl a good deal lighter and smaller than him.

"Well, I talk a whole lot better when I've got my arms freed-up," the old soldier shrugged, directing his shrewd eyes on Logan.

Logan raised an eyebrow at Max who in turn didn't budge from her stance in the slightest.

"You've gotta admit, your actions appear a little unusual," Logan commented instead, adapting a somewhat more conciliatory tone.

"I'm not the one that fool Bowie found next to a corpse."

"You seem to be remarkably well-informed considering the circumstances."

"If you wanna stay alive around these parts, you need to be," Tex replied before turning his head slightly and spitting some of the forest floor from his mouth as if it were chewing tobacco.

Logan thoughtfully studied the old soldier for a moment. "Just how much do you know about all this?" When the other man stared blankly ahead, he added sharply, "A man died here this morning, and from what I've heard, he's not the first to die in these woods under suspicious circumstances."

"Well, you've got that part right," snorted Tex, grimacing a little as Max gave his bent arm another upward shove.

"How do we know you're not some crank who gets their kicks outta roadkill?" she asked him in a low, menacing tone.

"That's just it. You don't," he replied, unperturbed.

Max gave his arm another hard shove. "It'd only take me a coupla minutes to shake something loose from him, Logan," she offered helpfully, sounding as though she'd enjoy the prospect.

Logan sighed and released his brakes with a snap. He had nothing concrete against the other man, other than the fact that, like themselves, he happened to be at the campsite the same time a man had turned up dead. Why Tex would be so recalcitrant he had no idea. "I need breakfast," he muttered, disgusted with the lack of co-operation from the other man. "Let's go eat, Max."

Max frowned at him for a moment as he swung his chair around to continue towards their campsite, then, a little reluctantly, let go of the older man. Tex ignored the black look Max was giving, gave his jacket a quick tug back into shape, then immediately headed off in the opposite direction.

Max, with some misgivings, watched him go, then turned to follow Logan. _If I'd had my way…_

"There is one thing I can tell ya…"

Tex's words carried clearly through the forest and abruptly halted Logan's progress. Without turning, he called back in a sceptical voice, "Yeah?"

"They'll be coming."

Logan twisted around to look behind him. There was no sign of Tex.

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Logan pushed on over the rough terrain, a deep frown etched in his forehead above the small, steel-framed glasses.

He tried to dismiss the unpleasant sensation that had travelled up the back of his neck at Tex's parting words. _Maybe Max was right – he's probably a crank._

"So, you think Tex is a whack-job?" asked Max, unerringly breaking the silence on exactly the same wavelength that he'd been on.

Logan wanted to answer 'yeah.' That would be so easy, but contrarily his conscience spoke up instead. "He seemed to be pretty on the ball when I spoke to him yesterday."

"They always seem like that," replied Max with a knowing glance at Logan, "until you get to know them, that is…then you come real that they're complete flakes."

"Chad said the same thing… he said that someone was gonna come. That's why he was in such a hurry to get outta here," Logan murmured thoughtfully.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Max commented meaningfully.

"I don't like it, Max. There's something really strange about all this."

"There's something else that's really strange, too."

Noting a change in her voice, and seeing that Max had stopped, Logan abruptly brought his chair to a halt and swung around to see where Max was going. She was already ten or so feet away from him, squatting down and staring intently at something on the forest floor.

With some trepidation, Logan followed her, heading off the path to a small clearing between the trees. At first glance he could see nothing out of the ordinary – simply the deer-cropped grass covered with numerous leaves and some sort of trailing plant.

"Max…?" he began, then all of a sudden he too was leaning forward, arms on knees, and staring with fascination at the ground.

"Don't think I've seen that before," Max commented, turning to Logan with raised brows.

"Can't say I have either," Logan agreed quietly, watching Max as she stood up and walked over to one of the still forms and turned it over with her foot before moving on and doing the same thing to another and then another.

"Looks to me like they've got a lot in common with Poggs," she finally announced, surveying the tiny corpses before her. There must have been at least fifteen of the lifeless, forms, as lifeless as the dead leaves they lay amongst.

"Looks like they've just dropped right outta the sky." Logan muttered, looking skyward with a puzzled glance.

Max reached down and picked one of the still forms up with a gloved hand. The tiny head of the bird lolled back unrestrained.

"Do you think you should do that?" Logan asked her, a little worried. "They've probably died of some disease or something."

"Or something…" Max agreed dryly, "just like Poggs. It's cold," she added in a matter of fact voice after slipping a glove off and tucking it under her arm so that she could examine the bird further. "Musta been dead for some time."

A sudden wind swept through the clearing, ruffling the feathers of the sad, still forms. Max shivered almost imperceptibly. She didn't like this one bit - first Poggs turning up dead, then Tex muttering about aliens or something…now this. "I thought the birds were a bit quiet this morning."

Logan made no reply. His gaze was still directed at one of the birds, but his thoughts were clearly moving at a rapid pace.

Max sighed. "I knew I shoulda made Tex cough up the juice. He was hiding something, Logan," she told him, almost accusingly.

Logan released his brakes with a snap and a dark look in her direction. "In case you hadn't noticed, Eyes Only doesn't usually resort to torture to elicit information."

"Well, I hate to diss on Eyes Only's methods, but maybe he oughta change his style," she retorted, "particularly when he happens to be smack-dab in the middle of something screwy like dead bodies turning up everywhere he goes."

"We've had _one_ dead body," Logan corrected her, heading back to the path.

"You expect me to believe that the carcasses of those birds are nothing more than a coincidence?"

"I'm not asking you to believe anything, Max," Logan snapped back, this time bending down himself to clear the path of a small branch. As he sat up again, he looked at Max with a sudden, annoyed look. "Which reminds me…there was no spider on my foot," he accused her.

"Made ya look," she shrugged, unrepentantly. "Does this make up for it? There's one crawling on your leg now."

"You think I'm gonna fall for that one twice?" Logan asked as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the face he found so distractingly beautiful.

"It's a funny colour - kinda orangey," Max remarked casually, _her_ eyes fixed with polite interest on his leg.

Logan's gaze suddenly slipped sideways as he froze for the merest second, then let his eyes slip down to his leg. Sure enough, a spider, the same type he'd seen on Poggs's face, was lurking on his knee.

"Boy, that was almost Manticore speed," Max remarked admiringly as she watched him brush it from his leg with alacrity.

Drawing a breath, Logan told her with as much tight-lipped patience as he could muster, "Next time you see one on me… just brush it off. Okay?"

"I've never seen a spider with that colouring before," Max remarked with a frown.

"That's because they've apparently hitched a ride here from South America," Logan told her dryly as he set his chair in motion again, wondering by this time if they'd ever make it back to their campsite before nightfall.

"They came on the plants?" Max asked.

"That's what Lenny told me. I found one crawling on Poggs."

"I hope it didn't bite you," she said, now looking at his leg with concern.

"Well, seeing as how I can't feel it, I wouldn't have a clue," he pointed out to her dryly. "Lenny didn't seem to be too worried about them," he added with a shrug.

Max pressed her lips together. She was beginning to wish she'd never agreed to Logan's suggestion of taking her camping in Murchison Woods. _More like Murderous Woods_, she thought, adding darkly_, it'll be all Zack's fault if Logan gets jammed up in all this mess. He's the one who had me come up here in the first place._

By this time, Logan could finally see the welcome sight of the Aztek. His body had begun to protest sometime ago about all this activity on an empty stomach and the thought of a hot coffee and something to eat had become something of an obsession in the last ten minutes or so.

Unfortunately, there was one more important thing he had to attend to before he could relax and fill his stomach.

He'd just reached into the back of the Aztek for the backpack he hung from his chair, when Max said, "Don't move."

Immediately leaping to the conclusion that at least ten of the orange spiders must be crawling up his back or some other part of his body, he froze instantly, half expecting Max to sweep in and brush them off.

"Someone's been here while we were gone."

"You sure?" Logan asked tensely, his own senses suddenly heightened as a rush of adrenaline surged through his body.

Max moved towards him silently, signalling with her hand for him to move away from the back of the car.

Logan had just dropped his hands to his wheels when he his ears picked up what he was almost sure was some sort of unidentifiable sound coming from the tented area at the back of the Aztek.

Max must have heard it too, because suddenly she grabbed hold of the back of his chair and pulled him well away from the car with one swift pull.

Before Logan even had a chance to protest, she'd jumped up onto the tailgate and disappeared behind the 'door' of their tent.

Logan waited expectantly, and without thinking, pushed himself back closer towards his car.

The silence was unnerving.

Had Max been knocked out as soon as she'd entered? Had she collapsed like Poggs, was his next, even more anxious thought. _Dammit._

A strange kind of scuffling noise from within made his heart rate surge and had him scanning intently with his eyes for something he could use as a makeshift weapon. Suddenly the opening flap of their tent was pulled back from inside and Logan held his breath…then let it out slowly.

"We had a visitor," Max told him, as she jumped down from the car. She refrained from rolling her eyes as she noted his close proximity to the car once more.

Logan stared at the recalcitrant, wildly struggling, bundle of fur, about twice the size of a cat, that she held tightly in her arms so that it wouldn't escape. "A raccoon," he said, letting out a relieved laugh as he watched Max set it down a little away from the car, amongst the trees.

"Looks like he wanted this," she said, holding up a pack of her cherry chewing gum. "I caught it just in time before it made too much of a mess in there," she told Logan as she reached in under the tent flap and took out his backpack. "You were wanting this?"

"Yeah. Thanks," he acknowledged as he reached out and grabbed it from her. "I'm just heading to the bathroom."

"I'll start on the coffee if you like while you're there."

"Sure," he agreed.

"Hey, watch out for dead birds," she warned him with a sexy lift to one eyebrow, thereby eliciting a reluctant grin from him.

Max smiled back, thankful that 'his grumpiness' seemed to be back on an even keel again. "I may even surprise you with breakfast," she warned him.

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Logan barely noticed the time it took him to get to the men's bathroom; his mind was far too full of the images of unexpected death.

It wasn't something he'd witnessed too often first hand. There'd been his parents' deaths, of course, but in his experience, death and hospitals, white starched linen and unpleasant chemical smells all went hand in hand – you either made it out, or you didn't. To this day he was still a little surprised that _he'd_ made it out. Okay, he wasn't exactly one hundred per cent, but with a little persuasion and a few threats from Bling he'd slowly come to realise, most days at least, that things could have been a lot worse. Had the bullet entered just a few inches higher, he could have lost all his independence. The word paraplegic had been terrifying enough, but he had no doubt that the word quadriplegic softly spoken from Sam Carr's lips would have been a far more terrifying sentence to have to endure.

Poggs, on the other hand, had simply gone to bed and then never woken up. Sudden, unexpected death left a far more bitter taste in the mouth – it left the taint of unfulfilled dreams and unresolved issues. Poggs had had dreams, intentions…maybe even some hope when he'd lain down on the ancient campervan bed and put his head on the dirty pillow. Someone had snuffed them _and him_ out. He couldn't hold back a sigh - it was all so wrong.

Logan stopped for a breather, absently staring at a crater that loomed ahead in the crumbling road, while his thoughts rambled on.

The spider had been disturbing – talk about strange bedfellows. Then there'd been the kiss…Lucy's lips on those of Poggs…

Suddenly, he was back in his dream, pressing his lips to those of Max, expecting to feel the moist warmth or her lips in return, taste her amazing vibrancy…

A sudden flicker of pain flared in his intense, green eyes. What good is a kiss, the caress of lips to lips, if the rest of your body is dead to the sensation? _And what the heck am I doing even thinking about kissing Max, anyway?_

"Hey!"

Startled from his morose thoughts, Logan looked up to see the sheriff had pulled up some way ahead of him, having travelled cross-country presumably from the campervan.

Bowie had stuck his balding head out the window of his beat-up looking, brown Ford Ranger and was now calling to him. Apparently he wanted Logan to travel the twenty or so yards to his car.

Logan looked at the distance. He also noted a large branch that looked to have come down the last time wild winds had blown in the park and now separated him from the sheriff's car. He then considered the fact that the sheriff was not in the direction he intended travelling and held out both hands to the sheriff to signify politely that he had no intention of going to so much trouble.

The sheriff seemed to hesitate, then to Logan's surprise he got out of his truck and came across to him.

"Figured I'd better give you your gun back," he muttered grouchily as he approached Logan, taking it out from the large, inside pocket of his jacket.

Logan took his gun as the sheriff held it out to him, checked to see that it was still loaded, then reached behind for his bag. "Does that mean I'm no longer a suspect?" he enquired cynically as he shoved it in the bag and re-zipped it.

Bowie looked down at him seriously for a moment. "I know you're a journalist," he told him abruptly.

"That a criminal offence nowadays?"

"I've looked at some of your work. You don't strike me as the type to write sensationalist crap for the tabloids."

"That's probably because I'm not."

"Aren't you at all worried by the fact that someone died here this morning?"

"That's _exactly_ what I'm worried about," Logan retorted. "It always worries me when innocent people appear to die for no particular reason."

Sheriff Bowie stared at the resolute expression on the man in front of him, looked like he was about to say something, then lifted his eyes to stare behind Logan at the river now sparkling in the early morning sunshine.

"Doesn't it worry _you_? I would have thought that's why you became a lawman," Logan continued, hoping to badger him into some sort of information.

Bowie brought his gaze back to Logan, unable to totally hide the fact that the other's barbs had found their mark. "I've got a body to take to town," he snapped, turning abruptly on his heel, but he'd only gone a few feet before he turned back again and said in a warning tone, "If you think that chair is gonna protect you, you're wrong. For all I know, it might even make things worse."

Logan's jaw clenched at the unexpected warning, but before there was any chance of a comeback, the sheriff turned once more and continued doggedly on his way.

Logan leaned back. His eyes narrowed with a thoughtful expression as he watched the other man stomp back to his truck, then quickly turned his head as he noticed some movement to his right.

"What's his dealio, now?" Max frowned, her dark eyes awash with suspicion.

"He's taking the body into town. Gave me back my gun," Logan drawled, still watching the truck as it drove off. "Guess a dead body up here doesn't rate a visit by the coroner's department. What're you doing here?" he suddenly asked, turning to Max with a frown and wondering how much of the sheriff's cryptic warning she'd heard.

"I got lonely," she quipped lightly.

He raised both brows sceptically at that. "Thought you were making breakfast," he reminded her as he released his brakes and set his wheelchair in motion once more.

"I made the coffee," was the best she could offer him with a cajoling smile as they approached the dilapidated, graffiti adorned building. "Then I decided that I'd visit the vermin in these 5 star amenities, too," she added with a nod in their direction. _And you were taking so long I wondered where you were._

Logan made some sort of a sound that could have signified either annoyance or understanding and then turned to push his way through the entrance on the men's side that had once held a door.

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"Our supplies won't last much longer," murmured Max as she watched Logan take the last bite of his fried egg and follow it with a gulp of coffee.

"You can always catch us some more fish," he replied absently as he put his plate on the table then inched backwards to reach into the Aztek and bring out his laptop.

"You still couldn't get through to Bling?"

"I was lucky to get through yesterday. The line kept dropping out, he could barely hear me," Logan told her as he booted up his laptop.

"Wathcha doin'?" Max asked him curiously.

"I'd downloaded what little information I had about the deaths up here and some stuff on Murchison Woods themselves."

"Anything about unexplained roadkill?" asked Max, squatting beside him with a hand on his wheel to look at the screen.

Logan's eyes intently scanned the few documents he had, but in only a matter of minutes he looked down at her and shook his head.

"They're hopeless. Not much about anything," he told her with a disgusted expression as he closed his laptop with a snap.

"If some whack-job has been killing people up here, how come it's all so hush-hush? You would've thought someone woulda leaked the 411 before this."

Logan turned to her, feeling annoyed. "Why are you so concerned about the dead birds, anyway? We don't know if that's got anything to do with other events up here."

"Dunno – it was just so… creepy. Kinda weird wouldn't you say – all those birds dropping outta the sky like that."

"I'm sure there's a heap of conservationists who'll share your concerns, but I'm more concerned about the_ person_ who died," Logan replied dismissively. "Damn, I wish I had an Internet connection up here. This is hopeless," he added, grunting with frustration as he slipped his laptop back under the flap of the tent.

"I saw birds like that down by the river yesterday. You see anything else dead around here…any other kinds of animals?"

"The mice I saw in the bathroom looked pretty healthy to me," he muttered distractedly, idly watching her as she stood up and stepped away from the awning to look up at the sky.

"Granted this bird thing seems strange…" Logan began.

"Logan, what if the birds ate something…or drank something," Max interrupted him as a chilling thought came to her. "I did see them down by the river," she told him in a portentous manner, her dark eyes wide with unease. After all, it was thanks to her that Logan had swum in the river, and he'd probably swallowed a mouthful when he'd been dunked.

"We don't know that," Logan said at once with a 'let's not get carried away here' tone of voice. "Besides, you insisted on boiling the water."

"Yeah, but what about when I pulled your ass into the river? Do you think you drank any?"

"I might have," he acknowledged, but quickly continued in a reasonable tone, "but there's nothing to say it's the water that killed them. Maybe they ate poisonous berries or something," he suggested vaguely, then a little more seriously, "Maybe the drugs they're growing are poisonous."

"Or they're pumping something into the river, some kind of waste product that's killing the wildlife," Max suggested, still fixated with her idea.

"Max, if that was the case, wouldn't other animals be dead as well? Why just the birds?"

"I dunno," she snapped a little defensively. "You been feeling tired by any chance?" she asked, torn between making it sound like a joke or deadly serious.

"Max!"

"I'm serious, Logan. That's the only thing we have to go on. The way you told it, Lucy said that Poggs complained of being really tired before he lay down…and he'd just been for a swim in the river," she added hesitantly, not liking the way her theory was lining up with such precision.

"Well, we both swam yesterday and neither of us are dead…neither is Tex or any of the others who were here with Poggs."

"I don't like this," she stated finally, standing in front of him with her arms folded uncompromisingly.

"I'm sure Poggs would agree with you." The half-smile that accompanied Logan's words definitely tended towards the sarcastic rather than the amicable.

"What did he mean? Bowie," she added tightly when she saw Logan's puzzled glance. "About the chair not saving you…maybe making things worse," she reminded him sharply when he still showed no inclination to answer.

A quick flash of understanding lit Logan's eyes. "Oh. That. That's what you call scare tactics, Max."

"Works for me," she told him seriously. Reading his stubborn look correctly, she continued, "Why can't we just swing back to Seattle and you can investigate all this from the comfort of your apartment where you've got your computers and informant net?"

"Because I think Poggs deserves more that that…more than some half-baked investigation because there's no one on hand and I'm hours away in Seattle."

"Then let _me_ stay. That's our deal…remember?"

Logan looked away from her, but not before she'd glimpsed the discontentment in his eyes. "I told Poggs that things could be different…"

"Just because you made one comment to a dead guy, it doesn't make you accountable."

"I never said it did," Logan snapped. He was never happy to have his movements dictated to him by someone else, particularly Max. When she made no answer, he felt his anger flare. _"Would it be different if I could…?"_

The last word died an instant death on his lips as he caught a glimpse of the probing stare Max suddenly directed his way. A heady feeling of self-consciousness assailed him, but he returned her gaze unflinchingly, as if challenging her to discover what it was he'd nearly revealed about himself in a moment of frustration.

Brown eyes locked briefly with green as Max hesitated, searching for the right words to use.

"I'm saying this because it's a bitch fighting something that's invisible," she finally said with quiet determination. "We don't have any idea what we're up against here. If no one else has been able to find out who, or what, is whacking people, what makes you so sure that you'll be able to?"

"The sheriff must have a computer…internet access. He looked up stuff about me."

Feeling Max's eyes on him, he continued quietly, "It'd mean packing up the car, but maybe if we got into town, I could use it and contact Bling…maybe Sebastian."

Max looked at their tent, not relishing the prospect of dismantling it if she only had to erect it again. _Damn Logan and his crusades_, she thought bitterly, rolling her eyes, both at his stubbornness and her own inability to say no to him.

"I've got a better idea," she announced to him flatly.

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To be continued.


	10. Suspicious Minds

**AN:** I must offer my humble apologies for the length of time between chapters for this story. Blame it on a trip to Vancouver and LA! I definitely haven't given up on 'Deep' - in fact the next chapter has already been written.

Huge thanks to the almighty, all-seeing, all-knowing beta, Alaidh who has managed to beta this for me in spite of the many distractions of life! I really appreciate the time and effort you take over my stories.

Also, my heartfelt thanks for all the reviews and feedback I've received for the last chapter. Reviews are always a great reward for the late nights spent writing!

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**Short Synopsis:**

Max receives a note from Zack to meet her at Murchison Woods Camping Ground. Logan has heard rumours of mysterious disappearances in the area. Without telling Max of his concerns, he offers to drive her there and the use his camping equipment.

Once there, they encounter an old veteran called Tex and a group of kids growing a hybrid South American plant that has narcotic properties.

Max finally meets up with Zack and he tells her he has intel that Lydecker is on the prowl for her in Seattle and he strongly advisers her to leave Seattle.

While Max is meeting Logan, Lucy, one of the hippies, comes running into Logan's campsite begging for his help. Logan returns with her to her van and discovers the body of Poggs who has mysteriously died.

The hippies flee and Logan is discovered next to the dead body by the local law enforcement officer, Sheriff Bowie who issues several warnings to Logan and Max.

The strange discovery of a flock of dead birds that have apparently fallen from the sky, an unusual orange-brown coloured spider found crawling on the dead body, and the possibility that the water may have been polluted in some way leave Max and Logan with a lot of questions and no answers.

Logan desperately wants to access the internet to do some research on the few clues they have. To his surprise, Max tells him she has a plan and runs off…

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CHAPTER 10

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"Where the hell is she?" Logan muttered irritably as he scrubbed vindictively at the frying pan they'd used for breakfast.

"Not as if she couldn't have told me what she had in mind," he complained under his breath as he held the pan up to his face to check that the last vestiges of egg had been scoured from its surface.

With a quick movement he plunged it once more into the plastic tub of hot, sudsy water, remembering her snappy, "Stay here," comment – her final words directed to him before she turned and ran towards the river.

What he didn't hear was the "try to stay outta trouble" remark, murmured under her breath as her lithe, slim legs quickly gained Manticore speed. He hadn't seen the direction she'd gone in after that … which really annoyed him as well. By the time he'd swung his chair around and moved away from the car so that he'd have a clear view, she was already out of sight.

He muttered another string of barely coherent words as he gave the pan yet another torturous scrub, before finally pulling it from the soapy water and drying it with a dishtowel. He derived a small, momentary sense of satisfaction from its gleaming inner surface, but it was quickly eroded by a gnawing dissatisfaction that all he could do was sit and wait while Max was out there doing the work.

_It never bothers me in Seattle…not much, anyway…well, sometimes._

He supposed the daily task of running his informant net meant that his mind and hands were usually focussed on a dozen different tasks at the same time. In Seattle there never seemed to be enough hours in a day.

Out here, there was just way too much time to think, too many unknowns to deal with…challenges to face that he'd never asked for.

He remembered reading somewhere, amongst all the stuff they'd given him in rehab, a comment by some guy that it had taken him six years before he'd begun to think of himself as being 'normal' again. _God, for me it's been barely six months._

What was it John Darius had asked him: something about being in the chair because he'd been sticking his nose in other people's business? How often had he asked himself if he had the chance to go back and relive that afternoon, would he do it all again? What would he be willing to risk to take down Sonrisa?

"_So, what did you learn from your mistake, Logan?" _had been one of his uncle's favourite sarcasms to him.

_Absolutely nothing_, he had to admit, having come to the conclusion that, given the same set of circumstances, he'd be idiotic enough to do the whole thing over again.

He'd never been able to figure out why he had an over-developed conscience that wouldn't let him sleep at night when someone like Sonrisa was out there.

_Just do_, _I guess_, he shrugged with philosophic fatalism.

_Just like Max is driven to look for Zack and the others. And like all causes, it rarely makes you happy_, he thought dryly, considering Max's recent meeting with Zack.

He'd yet to learn what it had all been about, but Max had been obviously less than happy with the outcome. While sorry for her sake, he had to admit that a part of him was pleased that things _hadn't_ gone so well between them.

He'd wondered from the beginning if she'd blow right out of his life once she'd connected with the other X5s. He wondered if his own gullibility with Val had been some sort of unconscious way to prepare himself for that. He knew he couldn't allow himself to get too close to Max…there were way too many reasons…it was all wrong…could never be.

He knew he was probably asking for trouble when he'd been vaguely aware that night in his apartment, even through the pain of Val's embarrassing betrayal, that he couldn't help but be a little relieved when she'd been so disappointed after finally meeting Zack.

Maybe that meant she'd stick around longer…do his legwork, eat his food, mock his obsessions.

Logan eventually brought his gaze back to focus on the here and now. The almost full, plastic tub of greasy water had to be emptied into the grass, away from their site. He wondered how much was likely to slosh onto his legs if he tried balancing the tub on his knees and bumping his way over to the trees.

_Nope, Max can do it._ _She's the one who's so interested in the water around here_, he reasoned wryly as he looked across to the wide sweep of the river that he could see through the trees from their campsite, _so she can empty it._

Without thought, he put his hands to his wheels and headed in its direction. The birds had resumed their usual twittering; the sun shone yet again – the simplistic beauty of a rural scene.

Moving as close to the water's edge as he could while still staying on the grassy bank, Logan stared down at the ever-moving currents. The clarity of the water this time of the morning was deceptively clear and on the face of it certainly seemed to ridicule Max's ideas of a contaminated eco-disaster. Logan knew however, that ironically it was often clear water you had to be careful of.

_Could she be right? Could there be some nasty bug in there killing normal organisms?_

Logan shrugged. _It'd take a microbiologist to solve that one and I happen to be fresh out of one._

_Max. _

She wasn't usually so edgy about things. He'd given her all sorts of potentially dangerous assignments in Seattle and he'd never once seen her so much as blink an eye. She seemed to be reacting differently this time…and he wasn't entirely sure why.

Logan wasn't sure what made him look up.

Perhaps it was the cool wind that unexpectedly whipped at his jacket or the fact that the sun had chosen that moment to hide her glory behind a bank of grey clouds.

Instinctively his gloveless hands went to his wheels but he did his best to make it appear to be a casual gesture. Only his thumbs moved, absently rubbing against the rough texture of the rubber tyres. His green eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinized the opposite bank hoping to all intents and purposes it would simply appear that he was merely admiring the scenery.

Slowly reversing away from the edge, he stole a quick glance to the left and right, then slowly swung around.

He wondered if there was a foolproof method for diagnosing paranoia – maybe that was all this was. Maybe all Max's suspicions of Tex and spiders and poisoned water and dead birds and anything else she was suspicious of had bothered him more than he'd thought.

He was only halfway back to their site when he heard a distinctive sound that unexpectedly triggered a memory of student days at Yale. When it eventually came into view, he stopped and leant back in his chair with a blankly bemused expression.

"So…whatcha think of your new wheels?"

_Max looks pleased with herself, almost smug, _he thought as he watched her jump down from the driver's side and come around to stand in front of her latest acquisition.

"_My_ new wheels?" he repeated, and for a moment Max caught a rare glimpse of his Cale upbringing in the tone he used.

"Well, we're just borrowing them, of course," she corrected blithely, not sure if his obvious lack of enthusiasm was the result of what she considered to be his overly active conscience. When she saw that he was still regarding the grimy, orange VW van that was decorated with bird droppings with open distaste, something inside her snapped.

"Logan, I'm not asking you to live in it! Just use it to crash town and borrow the sheriff's computer and phone. Do you have any idea what a bitch it was to even get this thing running!"

"Well, it sure beats having to pull down our tent and pack up all our camping stuff," Logan agreed diplomatically, even if he still eyed the van with a grimace.

Max put both hands on her hips. "So, you gonna get in, or what? I don't know how much time we'll have. We don't know where Bowie's taking the body. He could be dumping it in the river for all we know!"

Logan hesitated.

"You want me to get your bag from the car? It has your gun." Max prompted shortly, keen to get him moving while he was at least halfway in agreement with her.

Feeling very much that he was being railroaded, Logan reluctantly nodded.

Once Max had headed to the Aztek, he wheeled himself over to the passenger door of the van and pulled it open. With a sense of dismay he realized that the seat was a good deal higher than that of the Aztek's. Worried that his transfer may not be a thing of beauty, he set his brakes, and hoisted himself into the passenger seat as quickly as possible in the hope that Max wouldn't be there to witness it.

He'd just snapped on the ancient seatbelt when Max returned with his bag. "I grabbed these for you, too, in case you wanted them," she said, handing him his gloves before loading his chair into the back.

"Thanks," he told her as he tossed a thin piece of rope that he'd found on the seat to the floor of the van. "Doesn't look like this thing has been driven in a while," he murmured a little distractedly as he looked at the cobwebs festooned in every nook and cranny. There was even a gossamer film of them across the windshield.

"Mmm," said Max, unconcernedly wiping away some of the ones that were draped close to his head, before closing the wide door at his side with a loud bang that reverberated throughout the car and startled a few tiny spiders into an unexpected bungee jump before they collected their scattered wits and quickly made their way back to their original hiding places.

Logan instinctively ducked.

"You know, I would never have guessed that you'd be so snooty about cars. Is this some guy thing?" Max remarked cordially, missing his reaction as she concentrated on the still unfamiliar controls. Engaging the clutch she cranked it into first gear.

"I'm not a snob," Logan retorted defensively as he cautiously sat a little more upright. "I just happen to think these are the ugliest vans ever made."

Max raised both brows eloquently as she shot him a look of surprise. "I woulda thought this kind of thing would have been exactly what a radical, anti-conformist lefty like yourself would have driven back in the day. You mean to say that when you were at Yale you didn't run around with holes in your sweater and drive a broken down wreck?"

"My friend drove the broken-down wreck…and managed to turn it on its side by going too fast around a bend. The van very nearly slipped over the edge of a cliff."

"Impressive."

"Not if you were inside the van at the time," Logan told her dryly.

"Well, it's lucky for me."

"How's that?" Logan asked her frowning.

"Well, what would be the chance of your tipping twice in the world's ugliest car?" And as if to prove her point, she swung the wheel tightly and accelerated hard as she took the right hand turn out of the park.

"Um…Max."

She'd caught the movement in the corner of her eyes and then her senses registered the slight sensation that things weren't quite as cozy in the van as they had been.

Sure enough, when she quickly turned her head to the right, she saw Logan gripping his seatbelt and the passenger door swinging wildly open on its hinges as the van in its inimitable awkward style cornered the sharp bend.

"Oops. You know, I wondered what that rope was for," Max commented lightly as she brought the car to a quick halt.

"Now we know," Logan deadpanned as he gripped his seat with his left hand and carefully leant out to grab the wayward door and close it.

Max undid her seatbelt and reached into the back where Logan had tossed the rope.

"I excelled at knots," she boasted as she half squatted in the small confine between their seats and leant forward to tie one end to his door, immediately catching herself instinctively trying to avoid touching his legs. _They're not broken, Max,_ she rebuked herself, a little annoyed that she'd reacted in that way.

"Is there anything you don't excel at?" Logan asked her, trying to ignore how close she was to him as she leant across his knees to attach the rope.

"Zack says I was never good at taking orders," he heard her reply through the curtain of dark, wavy hair that obscured her face.

"Normal'd probably agree to that."

Max let her forearms rest on his knees as she finished tying the knot, a little surprised to find that she wasn't quite as cool with being in such close proximity to him as she'd expected she would have been. After all, she'd landed on a bed with him after their flight from the roof of the Steinlitz.

_Yeah, but I was pissed with him at the time for getting himself jammed up in that mess…not to mention kinda shaken up._

The question suddenly rose in her mind that perhaps she'd been shy of touching him because he was_ Logan_, not because his legs were paralysed.

"You done yet?" his voice broke through her confusion. He found it was getting harder to pretend that the fact that her breasts were possibly pressing against his knees didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Sorry, it was a bit hard to stop it slipping on the door handle," Max finally said, pushing herself upright again. "Now, the thing to work out is where to attach the other end," she wondered aloud, her dark eyes quickly probing the van's sparse interior before returning to his face. "Looks like we'll have to use…" she started to say before slightly losing track of her sentence as she noticed the way his eyes were fixated on the hand she still rested on his leg.

"The steering wheel column?" Logan suggested without missing a beat as he coolly brought his eyes back to bear on her face.

"Yeah," she replied in an equally cool manner.

Within seconds she'd pulled the rope taut and had it looped and tied around the basic, black metal pole and wordlessly returned to her seat.

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"Not exactly a thriving metropolis," Logan murmured as they pulled up on the shoulder of the road a hundred yards or so before the solitary building that was apparently Murchison Woods Township.

"You sure don't wanna blink as you drive by," Max agreed as she yanked on the parking brake and put the car in neutral before lifting her foot off the brake and undoing her seatbelt.

"What are you doing?" Logan frowned at her.

"This crate's a bit noisy…thought I should do a little recon before I drive any closer." Her eyes flickered to the fuel gauge. "Not a lot of gas in this thing, but I don't wanna turn off the engine. It was enough of a bitch to start the first time."

"And you trust the parking brake?" Logan queried uneasily as he noted the way the tree-lined road sloped steeply away in front of him.

"I tested it, Logan," Max assured him, trying to ignore the inner voice that protested, _not on a hill like this one._ "I'll be as fast as I can," she added in a voice intended to imbue him with confidence.

Taking the slight narrowing of his green eyes behind the steel framed glasses as his answer, she gave him the smallest of reassuring smiles before opening her door. She slid from the van, taking care to notice if the decrepit vehicle appeared to shift in any way as she slammed the heavy door. Satisfied that the brake held the van steady, she crossed the road and, keeping to the cover of the trees, made her way with Manticore speed down to the 'town'.

Standing behind the fat trunk of a huge oak tree, Max studied the building virtually grid by grid as though she were studying a map, filing with almost computer-like precision the details of the building some twenty yards in front of her.

From her angle she could see the front of the sheriff's office. It was a large, long, single-storied, rectangular shaped building, built in the style of a log cabin. Adjoining it was what appeared to be a general store. Finding no sign of life around either part of the building, she ran in for a closer inspection, circumventing it with quiet, cat-like stealth.

It took her only minutes to accomplish her recon and she was able to tick off each objective with satisfaction; through the window she could see a relatively modern computer, the building was totally devoid of life and there was a ramp on the left side out front for those who didn't want to, or couldn't, navigate the five steps that led to the front door.

Murchison Woods' only store was also deserted. The door was locked and, when Max peered through the dirty windows, all she could see was evidence of what appeared to be a hasty evacuation. None of the glass-door refrigerators that she could see were lit up, the shelves seemed to be virtually empty and the cash register drawer had been left open. It didn't appear as though anyone had been in there for some time.

"The place is a ghost town," she murmured to herself, wondering what Logan would make of this latest development.

"Everything's sweet," Max announced triumphantly to Logan, her breathing not the least bit laboured from her uphill return run to the van. "We have a computer, solitude and access – there's a ramp out front," she told him as she released the parking brake and drove the van towards the log cabin.

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"So, how d'you wanna play this?" Max asked Logan less than ten minutes later as the heels on her boots clunked over a wooden floor sadly in need of a polish in the sparsely furnished reception area of the sheriff's office.

She had dropped Logan off at the front of the building and had then driven the VW van down a narrow driveway that was almost swallowed up by the encroaching forest. It led to the back of the sheriff's building where the van would be out of sight from the road. It had only taken a few short minutes to enter the building by the backdoor and effortlessly jimmy the lock and disconnect the outdated alarm.

Once satisfied that there were no other possibly more sophisticated security measures inside the building, she walked through the office to where Logan was waiting for her outside the front door, pulling on his leather gloves.

"Doesn't look like Murchison Woods is considered too much of a security risk," she remarked to Logan as she opened the front door to let him in. "The equipment in this place was old even before the Pulse."

A careful scrutiny of the road in both directions before she followed Logan inside satisfied her that, for the time being at least, there was no sign of any unwanted interference.

"Well I doubt if Murchison Woods has many voters," Logan told her cynically. "Computer, phone?" he continued tersely as he pushed himself through the doorway and looked about, his first impression being that the office was rarely used and Sheriff Bowie looked to be anything but a methodical law enforcer.

"Thataway," she answered, motioning to the door she'd just come through from the back of the office.

There were only another two doors leading from the reception area. A quick inspection revealed one to be another small office and an area that looked to be like some sort of holding cell for possible offenders. The other door to her left she supposed was a direct link to Murchison Woods only other business, the drugstore.

She followed Logan through to a rather, cramped, messy office where she'd seen the computer.

"The computer's on, but it's password protected," Max told Logan as she watched him manoeuvre his way past filing cabinets and several desks to the one at the back that housed the computer.

"I can't get in there anyway, and I don't have time to mess with passwords," Logan shrugged, stopping his chair the other side of the desk and pulling out his laptop. "Let's hope the sheriff's Internet line is operational."

"Well, nothing else around here seems to be," Max commented depressingly as she pulled out the internet line from the sheriff's computer and passed it to Logan.

Max watched Logan for a moment while he connected it to his laptop, then did a quick check of the rest of the room. One door led to a bathroom, another to a small kitchen, and the only other door was a large closet filled with shelves and old wooden fruit crates containing who knew what.

An unexpected, unidentifiable noise from somewhere outside had her suddenly looking up, listening intently. In a few strides she was at the back door, cautiously turning the handle and gently pushing it open.

Logan paused only momentarily before coolly continuing to boot up.

"Looks like it was just the wind. It's started to really blow out there now. Last thing we need is some badass storm while we're up here," Max grimaced, screwing up her face at the possibility.

"I'm online," Logan announced without looking up as his fingers tapped quickly at the keys. "Now to contact Sebastian."

"Who?"

"Friend of mine…he's into conspiracy theories. I just hope he's around. This'll probably be my only chance online while we're up here."

"Well, make it count, 'cause I don't plan on comin' back here."

Logan didn't reply. Nor did he reply to several other comments she made while she restlessly poked around the office, hoping to find something that might shed some light on the mess confronting them.

"I'm gonna check out front," she finally announced and left the room without waiting for a reply.

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"Bling, it's me."

"Man, I was starting to get worried about you," Bling's deep voice replied over the line.

"Sorry," Logan replied absently into the phone while his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. "A few things have come up. We had a death up here."

"I'm guessing you mean 'murder'."

Logan's grunt on the other end seemed to signify that his guess was correct.

"So, what're you planning to do about it?" Bling asked, calmly.

"Looks like my guy was right when he said things up here needed some looking into...a lotta things up here don't add up. I've just contacted Sebastian; maybe he can throw some light on things."

"Did Max hook up with Zack?"

"They _met_."

Bling frowned a little at his end, wishing that Logan could be a little more forthcoming with his answers. "Anything you want me to do?" he finally asked.

"Nooo," drawled Logan distractedly, green eyes still intent on the screen in front of him. "I should be back in a day or two."

"Okay then. I guess you know what you're doing." His tone seemed to query the notion.

"I'll be in touch when I get back," Logan told him before hanging up.

Bling put the phone down with a philosophical shrug as he murmured, "Like squeezing water from a stone."

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"_Just where have you been?"_

Logan pinned Max with an accusing glare as she re-entered the back office from the reception area, taking note of the bag of potato chips and assorted tins of food that she carried in her arms.

She gave him a satisfied smile. "I found us a detailed map of Murchison Woods and I've managed to brighten up our diet while we're here."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "That's stealing."

"No, it's crime prevention, in fact."

Logan leaned back in his chair, his brows raised at her ironically. "It is?"

"Sure. If I leave this stuff here, I'm only inviting someone else to rip it off."

"And that would be a bad thing," Logan agreed with a straight face.

"Damn straight it would…particularly when I'm getting tired of eggs."

Logan nodded, but Max didn't miss the small smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"You got a problem with the cook?" There was a distinct glitter to his green eyes, his tone was almost teasing.

She smiled back, one eyebrow raised sexily in response. "The cook's _fine_. It's his menu I got problems with."

Logan grinned then turned back to his laptop.

Max let her gaze linger on him a few moments longer, suddenly struck by his manner, the unusual light in his eyes.

_Sometimes I completely space that Logan used to snoop out his own 411 before he had to have me do his legwork. So, Mr. 'Play-by-the-rules' gets the same high outta B & E that I do. Who'd a thunk!_

"You intending to make yourself useful while you're here?" Logan's voice cut into her thoughts.

Focussing her eyes on him, she found he was staring up at her enquiringly.

"Sure. Now that my stomach's gonna be satisfied."

Logan looked about the office with distaste. It was worlds away from the pristine order of his apartment.

"You never know what we might find in this mess." His tone suggested she was about to embark on a treasure hunt.

"Guess I can get my hands dirty while I wait. Just wish I had some idea on when we should expect our friendly neighbourhood sheriff back again."

"I emailed a contact of mine in the Coroner's Department, just in case Bowie takes the body there."

"What're the odds of that?" Max asked wryly as she walked around to the front of the desk Logan had his laptop resting on.

"Not high, I'm afraid."

"I don't like the idea of being in here any longer than an hour," Max told him seriously.

"We're hardly geared for a fast getaway, are we?"

Max shrugged. She didn't appear concerned by the prospect. "I just don't want us to push our luck."

The beep of an incoming email made Logan quickly concentrate on his laptop. Max didn't bother to ask him what he was up to. She figured he'd tell her in his own time…_I just hope he'll be quick_.

The face she had shown Logan a moment ago hadn't been a truthful one. _We'll be jammed up if Bowie drops by_, had been her immediate thought. Logan appeared less concerned at the prospect than she did, but then again, he was consumed in retrieving information from his laptop

_He wouldn't notice a bomb go off, _she thought with a touch of exasperation as she yet again checked both front and back doors before attacking the filing cabinets.

As time went by she felt increasingly uneasy with the amount of time they'd been there – it was well over an hour now – but Logan insisted they wait just a few minutes longer. His friend, Sebastian, had promised him some information.

"Max, I can't leave without it." The word she heard was I _won't_ leave without it.

"Well, I've gone through all this crap and haven't found a thing," she told him with disgust, motioning to the mountain of files and papers and letters that she'd pored over with X5 speed.

"I guess it was odds on that he wasn't gonna leave clues lying about for us to trip over," Logan sighed, looking longingly at the sheriff's computer.

"Don't even think about it, Logan," Max said at once.

"I should've tried. It probably wouldn't have taken me long to hack into it."

"Or, it might have taken you all day," she pointed out, "I don't plan on being the mouse caught eating the cheese."

"You did say that you were tired of eggs."

"I don't want to taste…_damn_."

This time Logan looked up with an expression of alarm. The sound of an approaching car was unmistakable.

"Maybe they're not coming here," he suggested to Max's back as she rushed to the front of the office and stole a quick glance out the window.

At that moment a beep from Logan's laptop announced the arrival of another email. Scarcely bothering to glance at the incoming alert that announced who it was from, Logan retrieved it, quickly shut the laptop then glanced around for anything else he may have left out.

Max's supply of loot was over on one of the other desks, looking glaringly obvious.

"They're stopping here."

Max's words made him freeze for the merest second. _How do I hide a damned wheelchair in a place like this? _"You sure?"

"You wanna argue?" she snapped back as she returned to the small back office, carefully closing the door to the reception area behind her before scooping up her ill gotten gains.

"Give me your bag."

Logan passed it to her and watched as she shoved the food into it. He desperately hoped that she had a plan. "The back door?" he whispered hopefully.

"Uh uh - too many steps. We don't have the time," she answered shortly, tossing the now bulging backpack onto his lap. "This way."

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_To be continued._


	11. Sounds of Silence

Thanks so much to all who reviewed the previous chapter – they made my day as always!

Once again, my special thanks to Alaidh for all her work on this chapter and for putting up with me bugging her all the time and generally driving her crazy.

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CHAPTER 11

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Logan hesitated, hands on his wheels, clearly unsure of what Max wanted him to do. She seemed to be opening the door of what looked to him an awfully small closet.

"Logan. _Come on!"_

A sudden loud noise from somewhere at the front of the office had him pushing forward with alacrity, hoping wildly that she knew what she was doing._ She was trained for this sorta thing, right?_

"Spin around," was the next instruction Max fired at him, which he did, this time _without_ hesitation, his back now facing the closet door.

They could both now hear footsteps in the reception area echoing over the same wooden floor that Max's feet had when they'd come in.

Logan's eyes darted towards the reception door as he heard a man's voice disconcertingly close.

"He doesn't seem to be here."

Logan froze, his eyes on the doorknob. Without a doubt, it was slowly being turned from the other side.

Almost in the same instance, he felt Max grab the back of his chair and he was yanked backwards into a musty darkness.

Once he was almost completely in, Max had to step to his right and let him do the rest. It was going to be a tight fit. They were hemmed in by shelves and boxes, but she'd been almost certain when she saw this space that they would fit into the small walk-in area._ I'll damn well make us fit_, she'd promised herself when she realised the occupants of the car intended to pay Sheriff Bowie a visit.

Logan frantically put both hands to his wheels and pulled back hard, immediately biting down on his bottom lip to stifle a sudden yelp of pain as he watched Max swiftly grab the door and silently closed it.

He had no chance to look around and discover what his throbbing elbow had collided with – once the door was closed it was as if the light had been snuffed out all over the whole world.

Just as Logan's eyes were trying to focus on the black void, he found himself flinching and jerking his head backwards in response to what his senses seemed to be yelling at him, regardless of his ability to see his own hand held up in front of his face.

It took little more than an abrupt grunt the very next second from under Max's breath to confirm in his mind that something was definitely wrong. Startled, he sensed her lean over him in the cramped closet space just as something heavy seemed to graze the front of his head.

He looked up, now definitely worried. It felt as if the whole closet was toppling down all about them.

"Here, take this," her voice suddenly whispered in his ear. Taking his hands from his wheels, he reached out into the darkness to feel some sort of wooden box now resting on top of the bag that was already on his lap.

He barely had time to register his surprise when he heard what sounded like the door to the office opening, then the distinct sound of footsteps.

"He's not here, either. Looks like he's not back yet," a man's voice called out, apparently to someone in the reception area.

"Did he leave a message?" a more distant voice called out.

"Doesn't look like it."

Another set of footsteps could be heard entering the room, their rhythm even, purposeful.

"Can you see the stuff anywhere?" The second man's voice was now sounding a lot closer.

Max put a hand out and grabbed hold of the interior lock, using it like a handle. No way was anyone going to open that door while she was there.

"Who'd find anything in all this crap!"

"Well, he's unlikely to leave it out somewhere obvious. Check in all the drawers."

Max and Logan listened intently to the sound of drawers being pulled out, a chair being dragged out of the way, the shuffling of papers and files, an explosive curse as something crashed to the ground, then footsteps coming ever closer.

Even though he was half prepared for it, Logan still jumped when the doorknob to the closet rattled suddenly, his left hand tightening its grip on his wheel.

Someone was trying to look inside.

Max's brow furrowed as she gripped harder on the lock, pulling on the door to stop it from giving an inch as the person on the other side continued to pull at it.

"Damn thing must be locked," they heard the deeper, second voice complain from just the other side of the door. "This is a waste of time."

"What do we do? Wait for him to show up?"

Logan held his breath again, while Max's face hardened purposely. It sounded as if there were only two of them. She had no doubt in her ability to spring out of there and kick both their asses.

As if sensing what was in her mind, Logan's right hand moved and felt for her arm. His fingers squeezed it warningly. It didn't suit him at all to have Sheriff Bowie find out that they'd paid him a visit, and he felt fairly sure that word of a beautiful, young woman charging at them from a closet would likely be big news to anyone lurking around Murchison Woods.

"Nah. We'll swing by here later."

Logan let out a long, silent breath.

Their footsteps were receding now as the first man could be heard saying, "Damn waste of time if you ask…"

"What the hell was that?" The words were abrupt, cutting through the other's sentence.

Logan hadn't realised that the box on his lap hadn't been balanced properly. As soon as he'd taken his right hand away from it to feel for Max's arm, it had begun to slowly slide forward.

Max's eyes had been focussed on the door, straining to hear every nuance and footstep. It wasn't until the box crashed against the door that she was aware of the danger.

In an instant, she'd reached out and grabbed it, as had Logan. Noiselessly, they both pulled it back onto his lap…and waited.

The footsteps were coming closer once more…into the office…pausing.

Max felt sure that eyes were trained on the closet. The door was reasonably sturdy…but a bullet would glide through it effortlessly…then into flesh…bone…_Logan._

This time she tensed, ready to spring.

In disbelief, she saw Logan shake his head in silent warning. _Is he completely whack?_

"Freeman, what are you doing?"

"I heard a noise back here…something."

Silence.

Once again, Max had a vision of a man with a gun trained on them. _Why the hell didn't they give me freakin' X ray vision? Forget it, Logan!_

Swift footsteps, then the handle of their closet rattled again…this time violently.

Max could sense Logan's tension. She felt pretty damned tense herself.

Freeman spoke again, this time darkly teasing. "I could send a coupla 45s through the door."

Max almost extended her arm in front of Logan in a futile gesture of protection. She knew she wasn't Superman – Manticore hadn't trained and designed her to catch bullets, just fire them.

Logan peered up at Max, and she wondered quickly if somehow in the dark he'd caught her half movement or maybe he'd finally decided that letting her kick some ass might not be such a bad idea after all.

The door rattled again, and Max inched forward, trying to avoid the wheels of his chair with her feet in the cramped space. She rose on the balls of her feet…

"You're crazy. The only thing you'd hit would be a rat. This place is probably crawling with vermin. Come on."

Max's eyes narrowed. She'd heard no footsteps. _Damn,_ _was it a trick?_

After what seemed like forever, footsteps echoed over the wooden floors once more, and this time she heard the sound of the front door slamming. Even then, she was reluctant to open the door too quickly. In total silence, they waited another few moments until she saw Logan look up at her once more.

This time she nodded, then realising that he probably couldn't see the movement in the dark, she slowly eased the door open an inch then turned and signalled for him to wait there.

If Manticore had taught her anything, it was never underestimate your enemy.

The office was empty, and a cautious check of the rest of the building revealed that, save for themselves, it seemed to be deserted, as well.

"That's it. We're outta here," she informed Logan brusquely when she returned to the crowded back office. "Logan, I mean _now_," she added more forcefully when he didn't reply, but instead remained intent on studying the contents of the box that still sat on his knees. "What are you looking at?" she finally asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"You said that Bowie wouldn't leave clues for us to trip over; you didn't say anything about them hitting us over the head," he told her with a smile.

Max walked over to him. She looked down at the box as Logan took off his gloves to get a better grip on the contents. It seemed to be full of old files and newspaper clippings.

"And…did they?"

"Seems like Sheriff Bowie's predecessor was a far more methodical sheriff than the present one. Look at this." He held out a discoloured clipping to her.

"It says here that a man's body was found at the bottom of a ravine."

"Four years ago," put in Logan.

"You think they were growing the weed up here, then?"

"I don't know," Logan admitted, "but I'm hoping there's something in this box that might give us a few clues."

"Looks like you won't leave empty handed, after all," she grinned as she took it from him.

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Logan tried to control his rising alarm as he waited for Max to bring the VW van back out front. He could hear the engine coughing and spluttering, refusing to turn over for more than a beat or two each time she turned the key in the ignition.

The wind was picking up and now swept through the main street in wild gusts. There was no sign of the sun that had shone so promisingly earlier that morning.

"Dammit," he muttered. He plunged his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, wishing Max had not taken the bag that held his gloves with her to the car. A sudden frown crossed his face as his right hand brushed against something hard. Wrapping his fingers around whatever it was, he pulled it out and stared at it as recollection came flooding back. It was the clump of dirt he'd pulled from Poggs's shoe on impulse, just before the sheriff had turned up to examine the body. He'd hoped at the time that it might be a clue to where Poggs had been immediately before he died. The colour of the dirt was a little unusual – it was very dark and compacted and when he held it up to his nose he could smell the trace of a definite odour, but it was so faint he couldn't quite place what it was.

The frustration of the van was forgotten momentarily, to be replaced by a new one as he turned the piece over in his hand. If he'd been in Seattle he would have been able to send it off to Beverly to have it analysed – yet another luxury denied to him out here.

He looked up expectantly, as the sudden, loud roar of the engine finally catching and throbbing in an admittedly shaky way told him that Max had finally been successful.

"I'm beginning to agree with you…this thing's a bitch!" Max called to him as she clambered out and held the door open for him.

"I thought you liked it," he murmured a touch triumphantly as he reached up and hauled himself in.

"Nope, I just thought it would be better than us walking all the way here…and I as sure as hell didn't want to have to walk back. Not with those goons around. We'd better hurry. I've got a feeling they're not up here today by accident."

"Maybe we should use that map – look for a short cut," Logan suggested, raising his voice a little so that she'd hear him from the back while she stowed his chair.

In response, she picked up the map from the wooden packing crate and handed it to him, then grabbed the piece of rope and quickly tied the door closed again before putting the van into gear and pulling away.

"Any ideas?" she prompted him after a few moments as he studied the map spread out on his knees.

He squinted at it a moment longer before saying, "There should be some sort of a trail into the forest just up here a bit further, somewhere on our right."

"And?"

"It should be a shortcut back to the homestead site, then from there there's another one that will link back to the camp road near the kids' campsite."

Max nodded approvingly. "That'll save us a good fifteen minutes or so…and there it is," she added as she turned the van, a little more cautiously this time so as to be sure not to lose Logan out the door.

"You sure you want to try this?" Max asked as she peered ahead into the forest. It didn't appear as though the trail had been used in a very long time and already they were being tossed side to side as the van lurched from one deep rut to the next. "Did they build these things with springs?" she added, wincing as they hit a particularly deep hole.

Logan braced himself with a hand on the dashboard and shrugged philosophically. He didn't enjoy being bounced around like this, but on the other hand it was a great opportunity to examine the forest a little more thoroughly.

They continued to bump along the track for another few minutes or so before their trail merged with another one that, thankfully, seemed to be in considerably better condition.

"Someone's been along here before," Max told Logan, glancing across at him.

"Sheriff, maybe," suggested Logan.

"Or our friends in the black, kick-ass SUV. I saw their car through the window back at the sheriff's," she explained.

"_Must_ be bad guys then," Logan drawled. "A black SUV is tantamount to having a black hat in a Western and everyone knows that bad guys _always_ wear black hats."

Max said thoughtfully, "In that case, I'm sure Normal has a whole cupboard of black hats."

"Funny… I didn't see Lydecker in one at the Steinlitz."

Max looked quickly out the windshield, the smile in her eyes quickly extinguished. Lydecker…forests…the memory of it out here was once again uncomfortably real.

"No, he's way too subtle for a black hat," she murmured darkly.

Logan looked across at her then just as quickly turned away and returned to a perusal of their map. Keen to change the subject he said, "We should be almost back at the homestead site." On a sudden impulse he added, "You should drop me off there."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because it's quicker for you to go the back way when you return the van instead of going the long way to our campsite first."

"I don't…"

"And the homestead path is a much easier one for wheels," he cut in.

Max closed her mouth. She couldn't argue with him on that point.

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Logan watched the van disappear down the trail, thankful to be finally out of it, and took a deep breath of the fresh air. The fumes in the van had been unpleasant – the result of an exhaust pipe riddled with rust, he supposed.

It was eerily quiet amongst the trees after having the engine noise reverberating in his ears. The only noise he could hear now was the ever-strengthening wind whipping spasmodically at the canopy of greenery above his head.

On impulse, he twisted his chair around and headed up the steepest part of the path that led to the homestead site.

Breathing heavily from the exertion, he broached the top of the hill and stared at the manicured, green plateau.

Once again, the angels had failed.

"What the hell is doing this?" Logan wondered grimly as he stared at the bodies of four stricken deer. Death suddenly smelt unpleasantly familiar.

Wheeling closer, he studied them intently to see if there was any sign of why they'd died. The comparisons to Poggs were uncanny. It looked as though they'd simply dropped with exhaustion to the forest floor and never awoke.

This time, reluctant to touch them with his hands, Logan searched around and found a stick. A quick prod revealed that they'd been dead for some time; their necks and legs were quite stiff.

Logan gazed perplexedly at them for a few moments, completely puzzled._ First Poggs, then the birds…now dead deer. _

Turning his chair around, Logan made his way down from the homestead plateau that had once again become a place of tragedy.

With only the slightest tensing of his jaw muscle he looked with determination down the path he intended to follow – he was well practised in ignoring the voice of reason.

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"You were a long time coming."

She was a little surprised by the casual tone. She'd thought maybe he'd be annoyed with her for taking so long…maybe even a little worried considering the whack circumstances.

_He knows you can kick ass, Max…no reason for him to be worried._

"I hung around up there, thought maybe I could shake something lose. We were right. The boys from the sheriff's office are involved. They came up to the campsite, poked around…took some stuff."

"You see what they took?" Logan asked her, now suddenly all-interest.

With her arms holding the wooden box and Logan's laptop, Max simply shrugged her shoulders. "Mostly plants. It looked like they were taking anything that might blow the cover on their precious weed farm."

"I guess that makes sense," he replied thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair.

Max put her load down and took the lid off the saucepan simmering on the small camp stove. She assumed the niggling sense of disappointment she felt was due to the fact that all she could see was baked beans. _Right…as if I even want Logan to be worried about me._

"Nice," she commented, forcing a smile. "I'm starved." _After all,_ _worry accomplishes nothing._

"They didn't say anything…mention Poggs's death?" Logan continued, scarcely aware of her comment.

"Nope," she replied, flatly.

His eyes suddenly gleamed as they fell on the wooden packing crate that she'd carried back along with his bag and laptop.

"Whoa! We eat first, Sherlock," she jumped in quickly.

"I'm not all that hungry."

"Well, I _am!_ It's nearly dinner time and I haven't even had lunch."

Logan gave her a long look, which she returned, fearlessly.

"Okay," he finally backed down, somewhat ungraciously. "Have it your way."

Max purposely carried the box and bag over to their tent and placed them in the back before turning to see if she could offer Logan some help, but instead she suddenly frowned and said, "What have you done to…"

_Your legs _she had been going to say, but the words died on her lips as she suddenly realised it was possibly none of her business why the legs of his cargo pants were covered in grass stains, and if it was…_I guess he'll tell me in his own sweet time._

"I mean, so what have you done…while I was away," she changed tack smoothly.

"Took me a while to get back here…then I simply waited," he told her casually as he stirred the beans. "Grab a plate. These are almost heated through."

"How the mighty have fallen," she murmured as he ladled several spoons of the basic fare onto her plate.

He looked up at her, quick to take the bait. "Yeah, well I can remember a few times in the last few years when a lot of people would have been more than glad to eat the humble baked bean. Have you forgotten what it was like after the Pulse hit? People were desperate…starving."

"_I think we have visitors."_

Logan twisted abruptly in his chair to look in the direction where Max was now intently staring. His ears had failed to pick up anything above the now almost constant noise of the wind.

"_Max?"_

"Sounds like some sort of a truck," Max frowned, irritably pushing her hair back from her face as the wind whipped at it.

Logan could hear it now, too.

"It's coming this way," Max asserted, turning briefly to look at Logan, who'd come up next to her by this time. "I don't like it."

"Max, it's a campground. Anyone's free to come up here," Logan replied reasonably, determined not to let his imagination run away with him.

"Bit of a coincidence though, wouldn't you say?"

By this time the truck had swung into their range of vision.

"Looks like an old truck pulling some sort of a horse trailer," Max frowned.

"Well, that sounds reasonably innocuous," Logan murmured. In spite of his earlier words, he was now aware of a feeling of relief.

He turned back to their table, not overly keen to be caught spying on their new neighbours. "Come on," he called back over his shoulder, "let's pretend to be happy campers."

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They managed to demolish their meagre supply of baked beans quite quickly, even considering the fact that Max took every opportunity she could think of to stand up and surreptitiously check out the owner of the horse trailer.

They'd experienced one tense moment when the black SUV containing the two men who'd been at the sheriff's office drove past them but, other than slowing down a little, it continued on its way, presumably to exit the park.

"The cost of that horse trailer must've set him back a bit," Logan commented as Max got up yet again to cast an eye in their neighbour's direction under the pretence of collecting Logan's plate.

Feeling he'd appeased Max by eating his share of their meagre ration with her, he released his brakes and swung his chair around.

He'd become less suspicious of their new fellow camper, who apparently showed little interest in Max and Logan, and was now single-mindedly determined to examine the spoils of their visit to the sheriff's office. "Where'd you put the box of clippings?" he called to her after having peered unsuccessfully into their tent.

"Why would anyone want to bring a horse trailer up here?" Max wondered aloud as she stared across at their neighbour, yet again. The only person she'd seen so far was a white haired man, possibly somewhere in his sixties, dressed in overalls and rubber boots. "That thing would hold a lot of horses."

"Max…_the box," _Logan prompted sharply.

She looked around in surprise at his tone.

"I really need to see what's in it," he added, managing to achieve, with some effort, a more subdued tone with only a trace of irritation.

"All you had to do was _ask_," she pointed out acerbically as she climbed into the back of the Aztek only to appear a few seconds later with both the box and the laptop in her arms. "Here," she told him shortly.

Logan moved to within reach of her arms so that she could pass them to him.

"Have fun," were her parting words as she jumped down from the Aztek and started to head towards the river.

"Where are you going?" Logan snapped immediately, swivelling in her direction, the box now balanced on his lap.

"Hey, you do your thing…I'll do mine," she told him coolly.

He wasted only a few moments staring after her rapidly retreating form before he turned his attention to his hard-earned information.

Dumping the wooden crate next to his chair, he set up his laptop on the table and adjusted the angle of the screen so that he could see it clearly. Within seconds he'd accessed the emails he'd opened and saved from Sebastian while still online at the sheriff's office.

A few times over the next hour he raised his head to check for Max's return when he managed to remember to change his position, but mostly he kept his eyes glued to the screen, ignoring the creeping coldness in his fingers and the ever-strengthening winds.

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"Hey!"

Logan looked up with a frown from the yellowed newspaper clipping that he'd been reading by the light of the lamp and considered the expression on Max's face.

"You look pleased with yourself," he told her calculatingly.

"I just got us an invitation to dinner," she replied airily.

Logan's frown grew more pronounced. "With our neighbour?" At Max's nod he added quickly, "You think that's wise?"

Max shrugged. She'd predicted this reaction. "I've checked him out, Logan. He's just an old guy who breeds horses."

Logan looked unconvinced.

"And he has food other than baked beans and eggs," she added significantly. "That's enough to convince me!"

Sensing that Logan was about to protest further, she quickly said, "So, you find out anything?"

"Some. Apparently the previous sheriff was big on collecting data – unlike the present one."

"What you got?" A flicker of interest crossed Max's face.

"Reports of unexplained disappearances. Looks like about eight people have been listed as missing from this area in the last ten years or so."

"And that's just the ones the media got a hold of," Max murmured cynically.

"A missing plane, strange lights in the sky…unusual noises," Logan continued.

"We're dealing with alien abductions?" Her voice was sceptical.

"Hey, I'm just telling you what the papers say."

"What else you got?"

"Sebastian tells me there've been rumours about this area for some years…same thing as in the sheriff's newspaper articles - lots of innuendos…no facts," he finished abruptly, tossing the sheet he had onto the pile of articles he'd already perused.

Max peered into the box. "Well, you're almost done. You can do the rest of this stuff later. _We_ are going to eat!"

"_Max_…" Logan protested.

"What happened to the previous sheriff, by the way?"

Logan looked up at her. "How does 'he simply disappeared' sound to you?"

"Supports your alien abduction theory."

"That's _not_ my theory," Logan ground out in exasperation.

"So, just what is your theory out of all this?"

"I don't have one," he admitted testily, _"yet."_

"Okay, it just proves my point, then, that you must have some sorta death wish to be hanging around here," Max retorted, picking up the tub of cold, greasy, dishwashing water that still needed to be emptied.

Logan watched her pitch the water into the grass away from their campsite, feeling increasingly frustrated with her attitude.

"You didn't seem to mind waiting around here when it meant seeing Zack," he couldn't resist reminding her.

She felt a slight sting to his words and she wondered suddenly if he thought her ungracious.

"Things have changed a little since then," she told him quietly. "Besides, if I'd known what a waste of time it was going to be, I would never have bothered to come up here in the first place."

Logan raised his brows enquiringly, pinning her with a direct look.

Max admitted to herself that he deserved to know the truth. "He didn't have anything more on Brin. He was warning me to get out of Seattle…he says he had some intel that Lydecker was on the prowl."

Logan looked up at her with alarm. "If he's right, maybe you should get outta town for a few weeks. I could set you up somewhere…" He wasn't sure he sounded quite as casual as he'd hoped. He found the thought of her leaving, even for a few weeks, surprisingly unsettling.

"Oh, I think he had something more permanent than that in mind," Max told him.

"Right," Logan nodded, finding the sudden need to swallow.

Max shrugged, unconcernedly. "I told him to shove it. He sees Manticore behind every tree. I don't aim to live my life like that," she asserted decisively, her expression sombre as her dark eyes sought Logan's face.

He found himself staring at her again. The thought crossed his mind that it was hard to believe she was only nineteen. Those dark eyes had seen far too many horrors to retain their innocence.

Tossing the plastic tub next to the table, she gestured to Logan's laptop. "So, get packed up. You're taking me to dinner."

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"That was delicious, Mr. Mueller," Max smiled in genuine appreciation.

"Please, you must call me Horst," their host answered with a self-deprecating wave of his hand. His voice held the slightest tinge of an accent. "The meal was nothing…just whatever I could scratch up." He sighed. "So hard these days to follow any sort of recipe. Do you cook, my dear?"

Glimmering with amusement, Max's eyes sought Logan's. "I have … other talents," she confessed.

"It must be hard work," Logan commented, drawing the elderly man's keen, blue eyes in his direction. "Bringing the horses to Canada by yourself," he explained, letting his gaze focus briefly on the solitary, brown mare docilely nibbling on a few blades of grass amongst the covering of pine needles.

Horst Mueller sighed again. "My sons used to come with me, but nowadays…" He let his voice trail off with wistful regret and then stood up and walked over to the mare, gently stroking her nose.

Max noticed that the touch of his weathered hand was firm, but gentle. Here was a man who was well used to being around horses. His every gesture spoke of an innate connection to the animal – that of a caring master.

Sensing some kind of tragedy, Max, feeling a little awkward, said quickly, "These aren't the easiest of times."

The troubled blue eyes turned towards her then flashed in Logan's direction. "We all have our crosses to bear," he told them both simply.

Logan reached out and put his plate of stew down. In spite of his earlier suspicions, he'd finished the enormous serving he'd been given.

Horst Mueller had regaled them with tales of his life, bringing out an old scrapbook full of his sons and his horses. He was able to reel off each animal's name and the price he'd got for the sale of each horse. If it was an act, it was an award winning one, Logan mused, beginning to feel himself relax.

"How often have you camped here at Murchison Woods?" Logan asked him casually.

The white haired man looked at him in surprise. "I always go this way when I'm heading to Canada. Not many roads are as good as this one, nowadays. Of course, years back you weren't allowed to let the horses roam, but now, no one seems to care." Looking across to Max, he said with enthusiasm, "The walking trails used to be beautifully maintained. Like everything now, though, they've become a shambles."

"We've noticed," Max agreed, glancing at Logan as she replied and wondering why he was biting his lip with a thoughtful, faraway look on his face. "The sheriff warned us about the paths. He said they weren't safe," Max added, watching the kindly face for some sort of reaction.

Mueller simply nodded. "Mmm. He's probably right, particularly with winds like this," he added, looking around at the tree limbs flailing wildly as the wind caught them.

Coming to a decision, Logan reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the several clumps of dirt that he'd taken from Poggs's boot. Holding them out to Mueller on the palm of his hand, he asked, "Have you ever seen any soil like this around here?"

Mueller stared at the clumps over the rim of his glasses. "May I?" At Logan's nod, he took one of the almost black clumps in his hand and slowly turned it over. "Unusual colouring for these parts," he murmured thoughtfully, almost to himself. Then in a louder voice, "Did you look around the homestead, perhaps even along some of the trails that end off the grounds? I believe the fire all those years ago was quite extensive. I can't say I know much about this sort of thing but perhaps this could be charred wood mixed with the soil. "

"No, I looked there," Logan replied feeling a little disappointed as he held his hand out once more to take back his evidence.

Horst went to drop them into his palm, but paused for an instant, looking at Logan's hand. "You don't have many calluses, Logan. By the look of it, your injury is a relatively recent one."

"Relatively," Logan repeated cautiously, always wary of questions concerning himself.

"Not an easy transition, I'm sure," the old man offered sympathetically.

Logan shoved the clumps of dirt back into his pocket, somehow signifying in the gesture that he had no intention of following that line of conversation.

"So, what made you both decide to come up here this time of year?" Horst beamed at them both after the slightest pause. "It seems for most people, nowadays, holidays are a thing of the past."

Max half-turned to Logan, seeking his lead.

"Doctor's orders," Logan lied glibly. "Fresh air, all that sorta thing."

"Well, at least you seem to be in a position to obey them. Not many folk have the means to do that since the Pulse."

When he received little more than a polite smile, Mueller leaned forward and topped up their glasses of red wine saying, "Excuse me, my young friends. I really should feed Ursula before it gets too late."

Logan raised his eyebrows.

"My _mare_," Mueller explained quickly. "Did you think I had a beautiful woman hidden away in my trailer?"

"Ahhh," Logan grinned, before lifting his wine glass to his lips once more. He watched the old man thoughtfully for a few moments as Mueller untethered the horse and led it to another area nearby that had more grass.

"Thought you said you came straight back to the campsite after I dropped you off."

Logan turned around at Max's words. She hadn't bothered to lower her voice. The tone was casual but there was a distinct sting in the tail. She now understood the grass stains on his cargoes.

"I never said that." Logan replied evenly, looking across to see if Mueller was listening.

"I can't believe you went back to that trail!"

"It was no big deal, Max. We were _both_ on that trail yesterday."

"Yeah, well that was before dead bodies started showing up everywhere!" Max hissed in return.

"Like you said, Max, you do _your_ thing an' I do _mine_." There was a challenge in the green eyes and the quietly spoken words.

Max bit back her retort as Mueller showed signs of returning, but fumed inwardly, _What kinda whack conscience makes Logan continually want to put his life on the line for some freakin' chump he doesn't even know!_

"There you go. Ursula will be happy now," Horst Mueller told them with a smile of satisfaction as he returned. If he was aware of the sudden tension between his guests, he made no sign of it.

"We should be going," Logan told him politely. "Thank you for your hospitality."

The old man beamed at them both. "My pleasure. It's not often I get to entertain guests – and rarely such pretty ones," he added with a warm but inoffensive smile at Max.

Max had a sudden image of him sitting by the fireplace, surrounded by children eagerly listening to some story he told.The concept of a grandfather was a foreign one to her, only vaguely gleaned from movies_…something else Manticore robbed me of._

Another sudden gust of wind sent the smoke from the fire swirling into their faces.

Mueller looked up at the sky. "This weather's definitely turning for the worse. I'd say there are some nasty conditions on the way."

"Well, we don't aim to stay much longer," Max answered swiftly. Her note of determination was for Logan's benefit. "We'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Good thinking," Mueller praised heartily. "I won't be staying long myself."

"_You're not worried about the rumours, then?"_

Both Max and the white haired man turned to look at Logan. Whether Logan intended it or not she couldn't say, but the genial tone of the conversation seemed to have abruptly changed as if swept away by one of the erratic gusts of winds that had harassed them all evening. The smile slipped from Mueller's face. "You've heard of them, too?" he asked, dropping the level of his voice to little more than a whisper.

"We've heard stuff about people going missing up here."

"Probably nothing to it," Max added, dismissively.

"I hope you're right, my dear. This talk has certainly kept people away from Murchison Woods. I must confess I was a little surprised when I saw the two of you here. I assumed you hadn't heard the things people were saying."

"Like Max said, we thought they were little more than wild talk. We didn't pay them much attention," Logan shrugged. "The sheriff wasn't too keen about us going too far away from the camping ground though. He seemed to think the trails weren't safe."

Mueller nodded and Logan caught a gleam of sudden understanding in his eyes. "I couldn't help but hear your earlier argument. Perhaps it was unkind to give Max a reason to worry," he suggested gently.

Max felt her cheeks redden. The old man seemed to be reading waaay too much into her words.

"It takes a lot more than that to make Max worry," Logan replied easily, careful to avoid Max's eyes. "Anyway, thanks again," he concluded, his hand outstretched.

Mueller took it and shook both his and Max's hand warmly. "Perhaps I'll see you in the morning."

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"So…what was that all about? I had the distinct impression you were trying to shake something loose," Max asked him quietly as they made their way back to their own campsite.

"I just wanted to see his reaction, that's all."

Max rolled her eyes. "You'd suspect your own grandfather!"

"If you'd ever met him, you'd understand why," Logan replied caustically.

"I thought Mueller was kinda nice."

"He's sharp. I'll give him that."

"What, you wanna diss him just because he agreed with me that it was crazy to be going anywhere near the trails that Poggs might have used?"

"I don't wanna 'diss' anybody," Logan protested mildly. "Innocent until proven guilty, right?"

"That was before the Pulse," was Max's cynical response.

Her words elicited an equally cynical grin from Logan.

"Whoa," Max called suddenly, having to bend her head into the onslaught of wind that charged at them ruthlessly.

Logan engaged his brakes and stopped completely, head bowed, waiting for the lull when he could push forward with relative ease once more. The wind tore fiercely at his jacket and he quickly pulled it together and zipped it while he waited. When he looked up, he noted that Max had done the same.

"This is completely whack," Max called to him above the roar of the wind. "We won't be able to do a thing here once this storm hits. You know the rain'll wash away any clues once it comes."

"Then I'd better do everything I can tonight," he called back to her determinedly.

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Max straddled the chair, her outstretched hands cupped around a mug of coffee. Despite the chaotic winds that showed no sign of abating, she felt warm and cosy shielded from the worst of the wind by the Aztek.

Logan had barely lifted his head from his laptop and the box of newspaper clippings in well over an hour. Max had had to find him a large, heavy stone to use as a paperweight otherwise the clippings would have been spread around Murchison Woods.

"Whatcha doing now?" she mumbled lazily as she watched his fingers attack the keyboard. She was bored with looking through the clippings. Apparently the previous sheriff kept clippings of anything that held any sort of interest to him, and his interests were obviously varied and many and largely boring to her mind. "It's getting late, Logan. We should leave the rest of this stuff 'til tomorrow. We've nearly gone right through the box."

Logan squinted at his screen. "I thought I should try and write down all the facts we have so far in some sort of organised list."

He looked across at her, his eyes falling on her mug of coffee as he wearily changed his position. "Any coffee left?"

Max started a little guiltily. She hadn't really been paying any attention to his answer. "Coffee? Sure," she agreed, but her face fell when she lifted the pot. "Huh, that's funny. It's all gone. I'll make another one. Just give me a few minutes to collect some more water from the river."

Logan nodded absently, returning his attention to his screen. Its brightness in the gloom of the solitary lamp that burned irritated his eyes. He was so distracted by the glare that he didn't notice the way the letters were starting to gyrate and perform a weird, lazy dance across his screen.

The sudden jolt to his neck as his head dropped lower and lower awoke him with a start.

_Something's wrong. _

Logan stared fuzzily at his screen once more, blinking slowly.

_You've gotta do something._

"Right," he mumbled in reply, but a cocoon of complacency seemed to have wrapped itself around his limbs. No matter what his mind screamed at him, all he felt was an overpowering sense of inertia.

His senses barely registered the alarming sound of tearing, splintering wood as a huge limb succumbed to the onslaught and with a final whip-like crack was ripped from its trunk. It was only when the branch landed almost at his side with a muffled crash that some sense of self-preservation within him began to stir.

Instinctively Logan went to move, only to look down in detached surprise as he noticed the wheelchair he sat in. For several moments he stared at his legs, wondering with a strange sense of detachment when reality had become so blurred.

_Something's really, really wrong here._

Only one idea managed to slip through the fog to take coherent shape in his mind –_ I gotta lie down._

As he hauled himself up onto the tailgate and then back further into the tent, the fog seemed to descend on him further, the world careened wildly, and he fell back unconscious onto the bedding.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max frowned a little as she headed for the river. For the strangest moment she'd actually forgotten what it was she was meant to be doing.

_Okay, that's a little weird._

She had to strain a little as she walked against the force of the wind.

The clouds had been building steadily all day and now they virtually obscured the moon. All about her, black shadows writhed against an almost black background.

"Whoa!" Max called out suddenly as she nearly pitched forward flat on her face.

Max had never considered herself to be the sentimental type, but when she saw the huddled bundle of fur at her feet, she did wonder if she was supposed to feel something…anything…other than this unusual kind of numbness.

The raccoon was definitely dead.

_Roadkill…kacked…D.O.D.…dead as a dodo… _The thoughts thudded in her head with each step as she continued on to the river.

_Bugs…parachutes…_the voice in her head rambled on as she watched the dark, inky river water slowly fill the container. "Not parachutes…parasites" she suddenly said aloud, her dark eyes wide as she realised her mistake. _"Max, what is **up** with you?"_

Shaking her head a little, she tried splashing some water on her face with her left hand while the other hand held the container steady.

At last the container was filled with water…but no one reached down to pick it up.

Max lay on the bank where she had fallen, unaware of the coarse grass pressed against her cheek or the water lapping icily cold at the hand that trailed limply into the river below.

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_To be continued…_

_My apologies to all those who hate my many cliff hangers, but I love writing drama/action/adventure. Just consider this the last scene before the ad break…_


	12. Daydream Believer

Huge thanks for all the reviews – it's great to get your feedback and it's a lovely reward!

Thank you Alaidh for a sterling job once again! It's a pleasure to be hassled by you. Sorry about the stubble!

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CHAPTER 12

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Max struggled to emerge from the cloying darkness that was dragging her irresistibly down, down, down.

Her eyelids felt like iron doors – heavy and rusty, slow to open.

Blearily, somewhere ahead she thought she could see a hint of light through a bank of mist.

She could only stare at it dully, wondering what it was, wondering why she seemed to be lying by the riverbank, wondering why her head ached.

Lifting her head and leaning forward on her arms, she was surprised to find the wind had almost completely died down and that the trees now stood silent and still in the darkness of the night.

Max cautiously looked around. She felt uneasy. None of this made any sense – the silence, the stillness, the almost total darkness.

_Okay, maybe not so dark…_

All of a sudden Max's eyes had something to focus on and she found herself totally absorbed in watching what had been a tiny flickering light now grow in size and intensity.

Max knew she should react, be prepared, anticipate. Why was it that all she could do was stare transfixed as a shadowy form began to emerge, almost as if from the very heart of the light itself.

For a confusing moment, the darkness merged with the light and took on the form of a single misshapen entity, before the shadow emerged again from the kaleidoscope pattern and took on a shape she recognised.

Max uttered just one word.

"_Zack."_

She wasn't sure how she knew it was him…she just…_knew._

"Max. I need to get you outta here. It's not safe."

She could see him clearly now, her eye caught by the black leather clad arm he extended to her.

"Max, Lydecker knows where you are. _We've gotta go!"_

Max felt a wave of relief - at last something in the confusion of the night made sense. _I shoulda known he'd have my back._ _He hasn't given up on me._ _He_'s_ my CO…I just have to obey_…

Nearly everything inside Max wanted to obey, as she stared again at his outstretched hand.

"Max! What are you waiting for?" She could sense the urgency in his voice. His blue eyes searched her face so intently that she felt he could read her every thought.

Max lifted her arm; Zack would look after her. She was cold, tired. She'd felt alone for so long. _What's wrong with having someone to look after you…having someone you can connect with?_

His words were like a soothing balm. "The only person you can rely on, Max, is _me_. Everything else is just a lie…"

Max slowly reached out to him. The only thing she was aware of was the hand in front of her. Time seemed to stand still….everything…all her life…everything she'd ever done seemed to hang on this one moment.

Zack would be her security…she was tired of running…she just wanted to stop…stay in one place…feel safe…be part of a family.

"Where will we go? Will you take me to the others?" There was almost a childlike appeal in her tone.

"Sure. We'll go to San Francisco…meet up with the others. We're family, Max."

Zack smiled down at her, taking a step closer. "I'll take you away from all this…away from Seattle…you'll like it in New York."

Max's heart seemed to skip a beat. "New York? You just said we'd go to San Francisco."

Zack shrugged. "Whatever - the further away from here the better."

Max nodded her understanding, smiling a little. She liked the way the light reflected off his hair…like a silvery halo…_like a saviour._

Zack's hand reached out further, his fingers all but touching hers, but now Max's hand faltered just the tiniest amount._ Just lookin' out for my meal ticket. How many guys can cook and save the world?_

Max didn't know what Zack had read on her face, but suddenly the appealing smile vanished and a steely, bleak coldness glinted in the blue eyes.

Max's mind began to wander, uncertain now with pinpricks of doubt. She could dimly remember another time, maybe not so long ago when she hadn't felt alone.

Zack spoke again but this time his words were calm, coaxing. "You're a soldier, Max. The only person you can rely on is _me_."

Max didn't move. _Something's definitely whack here._

"Everything else is just a lie. It's phoney sentimentality, and it will get you killed. Now, let's go." He held out his hand imperatively to her this time.

Max heard her own words with surprise. "No, Zack, I don't wanna be a soldier!"

Zack simply ignored her, his face set in purposeful lines. "I'm getting you out of Seattle tonight. You're risking tactical exposure."

This time Max stared at the figure in front of her as if he'd been stripped naked. The disappointment she felt was crushing. She'd believed him…she'd been completely fooled. "I thought you wanted what I wanted. I thought we could _connect."_

_Basic human impulse…not wanting to be alone._

Max started, staring into the darkness. She knew that voice.

"You can't stay with _him_." This time a note of anger pulsated in Zack's voice.

"You tried to trick me," Max yelled at him as a coldness swept through her that she'd nearly agreed to go, nearly agreed to leave Seattle…her friends…_Logan. _

Zack didn't coax, instead he came closer and closer until he loomed over her.

"Zack…" Max pleaded, wanting him to understand, but her eyes now flashed a deep-set fear. It wasn't Zack's hands reaching out to grab her arm.

"No!" she tried to scream but, when she opened her mouth, no sound escaped and when she tried to get up and run her arms and legs refused to cooperate. Max strained and strained, but it was as if she were buried from the neck in the finest sand. No matter how hard she tried, she didn't seem to be moving, and all the time she could see Lydecker's face getting closer and closer and closer.

Max gagged as his hand covered her mouth, but instinct won out and she bit down without mercy.

Her next response was pure Manticore:

Grasp the forearm.

Bend at the waist.

Pull forward.

Flip over the shoulder.

Stomp down hard.

Max's chest rose and fell unusually fast for her as she stared down at the face that was slowly turning an interesting shade of red - it's not always easy to breathe when a boot is pressed hard against your windpipe.

For a moment, Lydecker's face wavered, and Max risked running a hand quickly across her eyes and clammy face.

When she looked down again, her vision swung into sharp focus, and Max could only stare blankly at the face.

"Tex, damn," Max muttered, blinking several times to make sure that this time she was back in the land of the living. Still breathing hard, she couldn't resist looking around to make doubly sure that neither Lydecker nor Zack were lurking somewhere. She was surprised to find that the wind still whipped at her hair – the mist and the stillness had been as much of an illusion as Zack had been.

_Well that sure creeped me out_, she thought dryly as she found herself standing alone by the river, save for Tex, whose scrawny neck was most definitely feeling the sole of her boot. None of it made the slightest sense. _Kinda like Sketchy when he's got his drink on, _she thought hazily…then a little clearer…_Kinda like Sketchy even when he **hasn't** got his drink on. _Her eyes narrowed suddenly – she had a clear picture of herself filling the water container.

"Listen to me, girlie."

"Shut up," snapped Max sharply as her mind cleared further. _Damn, if I've been in the Land of Oz, where's Logan been?_

With a warning to Tex that she'd break his arm if he said another word, Max hauled him to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the Aztek.

Poggs had been unusually tired the night he died, her mind reminded her callously_. So what,_ she shrugged mentally.

_It doesn't mean anything_, she muttered inaudibly as her mind pointed out that Logan had been tired, too. _You_ _were making him coffee to keep him awake._

"It's been a bitch of day. He probably pushed himself too hard," she asserted under her breath as she determinedly shook off the last effects of whatever she'd succumbed to.

_Not **that** hard._

"He's just not used to dealing. It's hard for him in the chair out here."

_He's jammed up and you didn't even see the flags. How come you never came to the real that it was just like Poggs – he probably fell asleep then…_

"It's _not_ the same freakin' MO!" she finally snapped as she shoved Tex behind a tree with her so that she could do recon of their camp.

If the old soldier heard her words, he said nothing as Max virtually pushed his face into the rough bark while she stared ahead with a set face.

She quickly took in Logan's laptop, still set up on the camp table. She could see the pile of clippings stacked next to it. The wind was still doing its best to tug at them from under the rock Logan had been using as a paperweight.

What caught her eye the most was Logan's empty wheelchair, left skewed untidily in front of the tailgate. Max stared at it, trying to ignore the lump of churning ice in the pit of her stomach. She knew how particular he was to always leave it within arm's reach - no way could he reach it from inside the tent where it was now.

Barely opening her mouth, Max hissed to Tex, "Okay, we're going in. Just keep your mouth shut and do what I say."

Without acknowledging the slight nod from Tex, Max pushed him forward.

Steeling herself, she approached their tent, eyes impossibly dark against an expressionless face.

"Logan!" she called quietly as she walked towards it.

Receiving no answer, she pulled back the flap and looked inside.

His bed was empty. The tent held no one.

Max turned on Tex, cold fury pumping through her blood as her hands sought his throat.

"_Where's Logan?" _

The words came out raspy and strained. "They've got him… I told you… they'd come."

"_Who's_ got him?" Max snapped back.

"Can't…talk…like this," the older man struggled to get out.

"Sure ya can," Max answered uncompromisingly as she eased the pressure on his neck only to squeeze a little tighter. _"Now where the hell is he?"_

Tex only shook his head as he stared at Max.

In spite of herself, Max had to admire the old man's coolness as she looked into the steely, grey eyes.

_Ease up on him, Max._

Max rolled her eyes as Logan's voice echoed in her mind. _What, I can't even have my own badass conscience now? _

Max glared back at Tex, as much annoyed at herself as she was with Logan for corrupting her but, reluctantly, she eased the pressure on his neck. "You packin'?"

"Nope."

Max removed her hands and quickly searched him, anyway, while Tex massaged his throat and tried painfully to swallow.

"It's not real sociable to stick your boot in a man's neck, girlie. Or your hands for that matter," he added dourly.

"Yeah? Well next time I'll snap it. Now, where's Logan?"

"Take a look down that-a-way," Tex told her in a hoarse voice, casually motioning with his thumb further along the main road of the campground.

Max glowered at him for a second or two, wondering if the old soldier was up to something. After rubbing his throat for a bit, Tex looked at her, meeting her gaze without flinching. "You wanted me t'sing?" he taunted her, obviously enjoying her indecision.

"Just don't forget that you've still got plenty of verses to go," she snapped back tersely as her eyes drifted towards the direction the old man had pointed.

It was only then that she realised all was not as it should be. The campgrounds were _way_ too bright in that area. _That was the light I must've been looking at_, she realised with a frown, wondering how she could have missed something so obvious.

"Come on. Get moving" she commanded Tex harshly, reaching down to grab one of his sinewy arms when he was slow to move. "You can show me. Maybe we'll find out if you can dance, as well," she purred threateningly in his ear as she none too gently twisted the arm she held up behind his back.

Max shoved Tex ahead of her, quickly moving to the roadway where she could get a clearer view of the campground.

She looked in the direction of the horse trailer.

Logan's words echoed in her mind - _A missing plane, strange lights in the sky…unusual noises._

Max's breath caught in her throat. "_Okay_," she murmured under her breath, "_so this is even more whack."_

The horse trailer was bathed in an incredibly bright light, but even weirder was the sight of two men in white biohazard suits.

Their ponderous movements in the harsh glare of the two mounted spotlights against the velvet blackness of the dark night made them look like astronauts on a moonwalk.

_Only I'd lay odds that they're not here for the greater good of mankind,_ mused Max darkly as she looked at the automatic rifle each one somehow managed to grip in his gloved hands.

"Who the hell are these guys?" she whispered curtly to Tex, not liking what she saw.

"Dunno, girlie, but they always turn up after a killing."

"That where Logan is?"

"You thought that was just an ordinary horse trailer?" the old soldier grunted a little smugly.

"Why don't you just cough up the juice without the smart-ass comments," Max snapped back.

Tex nodded his head wryly. "It ain't a horse trailer – it's a lab-_or_-a-tory."

Max paled a little at his words, unconsciously easing her grip on Tex's arm. In her mind, the word 'laboratory' meant only one thing.

"How do you know that?" she asked, outwardly calm even though a host of other emotions surged through her.

"I've been in there."

His words made Max turn her head and stare at him to search his face carefully. "So Mueller's involved in all this?" she murmured incredulously, shifting her eyes back to the trailer from where they stood, merging with the shadows.

"Every time there's been a death up here, he turns up with the granddad routine and the stroganoff," Tex told her, not trying to hide his disgust.

Max tore her eyes from the trailer and swung Tex around so that she could look at him. A wise man would have told her anything he knew as soon as he'd seen that look in her eyes. Tex wasn't dumb.

"Yeah, I got the invite to dinner and the knock-out drops, just like you and your friend Logan," he added quickly.

"How'd you get away?" Max asked suspiciously. They'd been played once already that night by Mueller, she didn't plan on making the same mistake.

Tex laughed outright at her words. "I didn't. They let _me_ go."

"They just _let you go?" _Max asked with raised brows.

Tex shrugged. "I'm just telling you how it happened. One minute I was getting ready t'turn in, the next minute I was in some kind of a weird dream, only it turns out some of what was happening was real."

"So what happened?"

"They dumped me back in my tent. Made it look as though I'd simply got into my sleeping bag like I always do up here."

Max frowned at him, trying to make sense of his rambling style. Her brain didn't seem to be working at its normal speed.

The grey haired man shook his head at her. "You don't get it, do you?"

Max stared at him for a moment then, making a decision, she let go of his arm. "Why don't you _explain_ it to me," she suggested finally, her growing frustration evident in her voice. "Firstly, when did this happen?"

"Must have been about four years ago, about the same time o' year. The campgrounds were pretty quiet even then. Maybe there was about half a dozen people staying up here. Old Mueller over there turned up the day a young guy from a group of hikers mysteriously collapsed and died."

"And?" Max prompted, barely holding onto her patience with the other's slow, meandering manner.

"Well, I bumped into Mueller in the can. They had hot water here in those days. We got talking… told him I'd spent the day on the trail. Said how I'd passed the young buck who died up on one of the tracks near the homestead."

Max frowned at his words. _That's where_ _Logan went today._ The old man's story was starting to make sense.

"Mueller invited you to dinner and drugged you?" Max hurried him.

Tex nodded then continued with a wry grin. "Only thing is he blew the dosage or something 'cause I was half aware of what was happening."

"What _did_ happen?"

"Funny thing is…nothing much. He jabbed me with a few needles, took a gallon o' blood, did a few other tests like blood pressure and temperature…then dropped me back in my tent as if nothing had happened."

Part of Max breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't happy with the idea of Mueller running unknown tests on Logan, but it could have been a lot worse.

"You don't know what the tests were for?" she asked with a frown.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be hanging around these parts. Ya see, I don't take too kindly to being worked over," the old soldier explained grimly, "and I don't take too kindly to murderers, either."

Max nodded vaguely, but her mind was occupied analysing Tex's story. "You say Mueller knew you'd been on the trails up near the homestead?"

"Yep, and I'd hazard a guess that you haven't been near those trails today, but your friend _has_."

Max grimaced, remembering her argument with Logan by Mueller's campfire. _Damn, we were both chumps. We played right into his hands._

Noticing a movement, Max looked back to the horse trailer. The two biohazard-suited men were heading inside.

"You know what that means?" she asked tersely.

Tex looked at his watch with a shake of his head. "They've had Logan in there for almost an hour."

"Is that bad?" Max asked quickly.

"Well, it's longer than I've seen anyone else in there. Mueller's usually pretty quick. Maybe him being in a wheelchair an' all makes a difference." Tex peered at her in the darkness. "I've _never_ seen anyone come outta there harmed in any way," he told her gruffly. "Best thing you can do is head back over to the river where you fell. That way they won't know that you're onto their game."

Max hesitated. Right then the prospect of kicking Mueller's ass seemed very tempting, but one thing held her back. What if this was some government-controlled op…maybe even Manticore? She'd make things worse for both her and Logan if she burst in there like superwoman and showed them all she could be. Mueller may not have anything to do with Manticore, but there was a very good possibility that to anyone in the scientific world, Manticore wasn't quite the secret they hoped it to be. After all, Logan had heard about it…how many others had, as well?

Another movement from the direction of the trailer forced her to make her mind up quickly as the huge searchlight suddenly swung in their direction.

"They'll be bringing him back. We've gotta move!" Tex warned her, starting to pull back, away from the probing glare.

Max hesitated another instant before making up her mind. She didn't like the idea of having to base her decision on Tex's advice but he seemed to be the one with all the experience.

Not entirely happy, she split with Tex and headed back to the river.

"I'll be watching you, Mueller," she promised, but her words were whipped away by the a sudden gust of wind and carried far into the night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Logan…Logan…Logan."_

Someone was calling his name.

_One of the nurses? _

He groaned inwardly. _More tests, more prodding, more probing, more x-rays._

"_Logan."_

_Maybe if I ignore them, they'll go away…leave me in peace._

The voice he could ignore, but someone using his shoulder like a rhythm instrument was another matter entirely.

"What is it?" he mumbled, feeling decidedly pissed with the world.

"Logan…it's me, Max."

Opening his eyes, he saw a face hovering above him - it wasn't even remotely like any nurse he'd ever had attending him in the hospital.

For a moment he could only stare at the slightly blurry vision with a kind of blank wonderment before the jumbled jigsaw pieces of his mind began to slot into something that resembled order. "Max?"

"Are you okay?"

He raised both eyebrows. It seemed to be a leading question.

"We were played, Logan," she told him bluntly.

Logan looked at her blankly. Only a few short minutes ago he'd been plunged back into the first uneasy days of life as a paraplegic at Metro Medical and the images still clung vividly to the edges of his mind.

Max saw the confused look on his face and remembered with empathy her confusion when she'd first woke up by the river. "It's a bitch, I know," she agreed sympathetically.

As this comment didn't produce the desired affect, she sat down on her sleeping bag, narrowly avoiding his glasses that had, in the confusion, somehow ended up on her side.

"I'd better break it down for you," she told him. She waited for him to pull himself up and lean back against the driver's seat before handing him his glasses, and then proceeded to fill him in as much as she could on all that had happened over the last few hours.

"…they brought you back here, just like Tex said they would and I've been waiting for you to wake up ever since."

"What's Mueller doing now?"

"He's gone."

"_Gone?_ Where?"

"How would I know?" Max shrugged. "Just…gone. He pulled out not long after they brought you back here."

"You didn't follow him or at least try to find out where he was going?" Logan asked, clearly annoyed.

"Maybe he had to go deliver a basket of goodies to a sick aunt or something. _I don't know, Logan!"_

"Max. He was our only lead," Logan spelled out for her carefully.

"They bring you back looking like death warmed over from a guy who, for all I know, is a fan of Josef Mengele's and you think I'm gonna just blaze and run out chasing a lead? And maybe you're forgetting that your _car_ is presently our _tent!" _she finished hotly.

"Thanks for the reminder," Logan acknowledged tersely as her wrath finally reached its peak.

He had no way of knowing that she'd spent a long time agonising over whether or not to leave him and try to follow Mueller when she'd seen the signs of him packing up. On the other hand, she wasn't sure if she should just break camp herself and head back to Seattle where she could get Logan to a doctor. She hadn't enjoyed the twisting in her gut of doubt and uncertainty. She remembered how she'd outwardly shrugged off Theo's and Jacinda's concerns, done nothing except feel bad, and look what had happened to him. She had only Tex's word that Logan would be all right, and that fact didn't instil in her a great deal of confidence.

Risking a quick glance in her direction, he added, "I wasn't thinking."

Max recognised this as the closest thing to Logan actually saying he was sorry, so to make it clear to him that she saw it as such she said, "Apology accepted."

"Guess all this'll teach me to play Sherlock Holmes," he remarked dryly as he glanced out the window. It was still dark out, but he could hear a few birds starting their early morning chorus.

"You don't remember anything?" Max asked him intently.

_Just hospitals and pain and operations and tests…the look on Jonas's face…the first sight of me in a mirror…_

"I mean in Mueller's lab," Max prompted, feeling a little awkward that she'd caught a glimpse of an unusually unguarded expression on his face.

"Not sure; it's all kinda confusing right now," he answered shortly.

"It's the candy…messes with your mind," Max told him quietly, remembering her own experience. Even now, the nightmare by the river with Zack still lingered with amazing clarity. Looking back on it she'd realised that it had been a mixture of real conversations she'd had with Zack and other things her mind had simply conjured up. She wasn't used to nightmares - she didn't sleep. Only when she was in the grip of a seizure did they bother her.

Logan vaguely nodded his head in acknowledgment of her observation before muttering, "Right," but Max suspected he was far from 'right' and she wondered what memories had jammed him up.

She hadn't told him about her own dream – how real it had seemed, how it brought back old fears she'd thought were long buried. Nor had she told him that she'd finally woken him when she'd seen how troubled his sleep seemed to be in the grip of whatever drug Mueller had plied them with.

"Needles," Logan's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I remember needles."

"Which arm?" Max asked quickly, before adding a little awkwardly, "Supposing it was an arm."

Logan grinned, "I'd have _preferred_ my ass," as he pulled up the left sleeve of his sweater and examined his inside elbow. Without a word he held his arm out for Max to see – several puncture marks and a slight inflammation were clearly visible, even to someone without her enhanced vision.

Max frowned. They only would have needed to stick Logan once and they could have taken as much blood as they wanted. Keeping her thoughts to herself for the moment, she said, "Tex said they took a heap of blood from him. Remember anything like that?"

Logan frowned, trying to remember, but whatever had happened to him in the hour he was with Mueller was inexplicably tied to his memories of Metro Medical and he found it almost impossible to separate the two in his mind.

"Anything at all?" Max prompted. "We need to know what they did to you. We've only got Tex's word that they took stuff out. Not trying to sound sinister here but what about anything Mueller could have put in?" she finished significantly.

The thought brought Logan up short. He definitely didn't like the idea of that. He gave Max a wry look. "You have a point."

"Keep thinking. I'll check outside and make us some coffee."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Left to himself in the gloom of their tent, lit only by the solitary flashlight Max had left by his side, Logan tried closing his eyes and concentrating on the darkness in his mind, but that seemed to _chase away_ any images rather than recall them.

Logan was reminded that dawn wasn't far away when he heard a raven let loose with its first caw of the day. _Damn things, _he muttered _probably spent yesterday feasting on the deer by the homestead site._

He could vaguely hear scraps of noise outside - Max lighting the stove then putting the coffee pot on the burner. He wondered how cold it was out there. The wind seemed to have died down a little but it was still gusting quite strongly by the sound of it.

A sudden thought came to Logan; he grabbed the flashlight and lifted the sleeping bag that covered him. He was thankful to see that he was still fully clothed right down to his shoes and socks, although he suspected lying down in his shoes was going to put pressure on all the wrong places.

For a moment he stared at the feet sticking out the end of his sleeping bag, wondering idly if they really belonged to him when his eye caught an almost imperceptible trace of movement on the bag itself. In a split second he'd flicked the bag off his legs and tossed it to the other side. Quickly grabbing the Maglite again, he leant forward and shone it carefully around the car's interior. A thorough inspection revealed nothing and he leant back again thoughtfully.

_Something's a little strange here, Logan, _he told himself uneasily as he let out a long breath, absently rubbing a hand across the stubble on his face. He wasn't sure how he felt but he knew he didn't feel entirely normal - _if I even know what 'normal' is these days_ - more like a vague disorientation. He had to suppose it was the lingering effects of whatever drug it was Mueller had slipped him.

Thankful for something to concentrate on, he reached down and dragged his right foot towards him, resting his ankle on his thigh. Once he'd pulled off the shoe he began massaging his foot, hoping he was aiding his sluggish circulation. He wasn't surprised to find that his foot felt cold even through his sock. His mind then wandered off to wondering why Bling had become a PT - why anyone would want to spend their life rotating someone's ankle and flexing useless limbs.

_You know he does much more than that._

_Oh yeah, _Logan told his mind cynically, _he has his theories about people walking again and he forces me to do endless reps that are meant to do... something!_

Suppressing a sigh of frustration with a tightening of his mouth, he wondered what the hell he was trying to achieve out here. _You hardly ever went camping even when you could walk, let alone now. You shoulda just gone home…looked the other way for once…let it slide. What are you trying to prove out here, anyway?_

Swapping legs and dragging his other foot within reach, Logan swallowed hard. He had the sudden doubt that maybe he was in too deep – not just deep, but waaay over his head. He knew Max wanted them to go back to Seattle. Maybe she was right…maybe no one cares what happened to a drop-out med student who wanted to turn his life around, try again, pick up the pieces.

"_My supposition was right - it's a recent injury, bullet by the looks of it, just below T8 level." _

Logan's thoughts stopped abruptly.

He suddenly had a fleeting glimpse of Sam Carr in hospital whites, a surgical mask covering his face.

His foot was forgotten as he tried to capture the images he'd uncovered, unexpectedly hovering at the edges of his memory.

_Lying on his side…in a hospital maybe? Someone prodding his back…waiting for the sensation of feeling to stop as the hand trailing down his spine moved lower and lower._

_Squinting…damn that light is bright…fighting to keep his eyes open…failing…falling then slipping back into darkness._

_Somewhere behind him voices murmured…talking low…slow, measured…some kind of a commentary…Discovery Channel – 'Modern Marvels of Medicine'._

"_You realise we've never had a paraplegic before – this is excellent, excellent." _

_Tensing for the pinprick then a ribbon of red trailing from his arm._

_A figure standing over him…blood flowing through tubing. _

_A sudden awareness, knowing that something wasn't right…feeling trapped…wanting to move…struggling._

"_It won't be long now, my boy. Just relax."_

_Reassuring words, almost fatherly, but he found no comfort in them._ _My father never spoke like that…not Sam..._

"Might as well add some caffeine to the candy we've already got surfing in our blood streams."

Logan looked up to see Max coming back, juggling their coffees in one hand as she swung herself in. "You okay?" she added quickly, all trace of a smile gone as she saw his face.

Logan hesitated, feeling the tug of both worlds.

"You remember what Mueller did to you?" Max prompted sharply.

"Some of it," Logan answered abruptly, wondering how much he wanted to tell her. There was too much wrapped up in the hazy images of the night that he wanted to keep locked away, certainly not exposed to Max.

Max regarded him steadily for a moment before wedging their coffees down in the space between the air mattress and the seat. She sat down on her side. "Wanna share?" she finally suggested as she watched him reposition his legs, unaware that her gaze was making him feel self-conscious.

"If I can," Logan answered evenly once his task was complete. He wasn't sure where to start or how to explain it to her. Eyes Only dealt with facts, not with hazy recollections and dreams. "I remember seeing a doctor looking at me. First of all I thought it was my own doctor, Sam Carr…turns out it was_ Mueller_," he told her finally if a little cryptically.

Max simply nodded, intently watching his expression as the car imperceptibly grew less dark. _Am I finally gonna get some of the 411 on what makes Logan Cale tick?_

"It was like I was inside some sort of hospital examination room…bright lights, lotsa metal surfaces, smell of antiseptic. Clinical," he told her quietly, focussing his eyes on some invisible point ahead.

Max nodded, for a brief moment swinging back to a childhood of experimentation in a room such as the one Logan described. Sometimes it was hard not to shudder.

"They were looking at my back, discussing my injury." _Like I was a prize specimen._ "Something about not having had someone like me before." Logan risked a quick glance at her then moved on quickly. "I remember opening my eyes and seeing the tubing in my arm where they were taking some blood."

"You don't remember anyone sticking a needle in your skin and pumping you full of dope?"

Logan shook his head. "The only other thing I remember clearly is a man in hospital whites standing over me. At first I just assumed it was my neurosurgeon, but something about him didn't seem to add up."

"Damn. Mueller," Max finished for him. A feeling of pure, cold dread had crept over her. "You don't think that…I mean…this sounds like Manticore to me," she finally got out, looking directly at Logan.

"From what you told me, Manticore is interested in _perfection,_ not in someone like _me_," he added dryly.

Max remembered the small, still child on the table, the saw in the doctor's hand, the empty bed next to hers that was never filled. "Not always," she told him darkly.

Logan looked at her and realised with empathy that they both had the taste of bitter pills in their mouths.

"This should be cool enough to drink by now," Max said, changing the subject abruptly as she handed him his coffee. "I finished going through the box of clippings while you were out of it." Max said, digging a hand into her pocket. "Found this."

Curiously, Logan reached out and took the yellowed cutting from her hand. 'Private plane crashes in Murchison Woods,' the headline announced.

"See when it went down?" Max prompted.

Logan raised both brows. "Twelve-oh-five, June First, 2009. Time the Pulse hit."

"Now take a look at the photo of the guy who died."

Logan lifted the cutting closer to his face so that he could study it more intently. The quality of the photos was poor and grainy. He remembered the scramble by the big newspapers to find more traditional ways of printing when the Pulse hit and fried their computers.

"I wonder when this was printed," he commented to Max, wishing the whole page had been saved. "I don't recall there being newspapers for quite some weeks when the Pulse hit."

"The _photo_, Logan," Max reminded him. "Look like anyone to you?"

Logan squinted at it, trying to imagine the change in the middle-aged man's features that ten years plus would bring about. There was a vague familiarity to someone…

"You don't recognise those Teutonic features? Just replace the hair with grey, add lotsa wrinkles," she suggested.

"Horst Mueller?" Logan stared hard at the photo, beginning to see the resemblance once Max had pointed him in the right direction.

"Either he didn't die in that plane crash or Mueller's this guy's twin brother."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_To be continued…_


	13. Mississippi Mud

Thanks to all those who gave me feedback on the last chapter – it's very, very much appreciated.

My special thanks as always to the patient Alaidh for applying all her betaing skills to this chapter, correcting my grammar, deleting words I've made up and being generally patient with my nonsense.

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DEEP

CHAPTER 13

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Max's thoughts were uneasy as she walked alongside Logan from the campground restrooms.

The forest was too silent, too still, even though the first inklings of dawn were filtering through the trees. The winds had died down almost as abruptly as they'd begun.

"Y'think the birds know something we don't?" she commented quietly, looking around her for some sign of life in the trees.

"Maybe," Logan grunted shortly, his breathing a little laboured with exertion. At least he hoped that was all it was. His perspective seemed to be doing strange things, too – one minute blurrily out of focus, the next unrealistically sharp.

"Course, could be they're just smarter than us, know when to blaze." She threw an ironic glance in Logan's direction.

"I thought Manticore would've been big on teaching all that kinda stuff...moss growing on trees…migratory patterns of birds…_rats leaving a sinking ship_," he added dryly.

"That musta been the lesson I missed when I snuck out to smoke up behind the gymnasium," Max replied airily.

"Don't tell me - Zack's idea as well?"

Max snorted. "Oh, yeah, sounds just like the sorta thing Mr. 'I was born t'lead' would do."

"He was the one who broke you out," Logan reminded her.

Max determinedly stared ahead. She didn't want to think about that night or Manticore or Lydecker or even Zack but ... _Damn, what is it about this place that's got me so screwed up that I can't get freakin' Manticore outta my brain, all of a sudden? _

"What's wrong?" Max snapped abruptly, turning to find Logan stopped about five paces behind her, looking down at his legs.

"Nothing," he called back quickly as he looked up at her.

Max, in turn, silently pointed an accusing finger at his wheel, her fine brows rising at his reaction. She thought if he could have he would've jumped out of his chair. "Damn, where?" he snapped, brushing repeatedly at the leg of his pants.

"Logan, there's a stick caught in your wheel, that's all," she hurried to explain, looking at him curiously. "No big dealio."

"Oh…that all," he muttered, reaching down to loosen it from the spokes.

Max regarded him curiously while she waited for him to catch up to her. "Never would've taken you to be the jumpy type." Seeing the look he threw her way, she continued, "You know, it's this whole creepy place, don't you think? No wonder no one comes here – it's like stepping into one of those horror flicks you're so fond of."

"I _don't_ watch horror flicks."

"TV show – _whatever."_

"And I watched it when I was a kid," he pointed out.

"That why you don't have enough sense to get outta here? You think we're Mulder and Scully?"

Max was pleased to catch the flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Is there anything you _don't_ know?" he murmured as he caught up with her.

Max flashed him her superior smile then admitted, "I caught sight of the vintage collection of DVDs you've got stashed in your cupboard."

I'd hardly call it vintage," Logan protested.

"Whatever," she shrugged mildly, content to have reeled him in so easily. "Scenario: some hotshot goes around investigating the paranormal."

"And your point is?"

"You're as whack as Mulder…"

Logan stared heavenward with an exasperated sigh.

"And if you had any sense at all, which you obviously don't, after what happened last night, you woulda packed up and gone home."

"We've been through all this before. I need to talk to Tex," he explained to her emphatically and with as much patience as he could muster. "He seems to be the only one who can fill us in on what's happening around here."

"Cool. _Then_ we blaze."

"I thought you enjoyed kicking ass," he ground out in annoyance.

"If I can see the ass I hafta kick – yeah, I'm fine with it."

"Max…"

"Logan, we've got nothing to go on up here except a whole lotta unexplained deaths and a mad scientist running around jabbing people. I'm not afraid to say that I don't like our odds. I've got nothing to prove," she finished meaningfully.

"You have my congratulations."

Max bit back a retort.

"First, I need to find Tex," Logan continued single-mindedly.

"_I_ need to find Tex. Legwork's my department…right?" she insisted coolly.

Logan held out a hand in acquiescence. "All yours."

"Cool," she agreed lightly. "Do you think…?" A rustling sound in the undergrowth to her right made her swing suddenly in that direction, hands at the ready in a combat pose, poised and ready to take on any threat.

_You're soldiers. You can never relax your guard. You must be on the alert at all times. To relax is to…_

"It's a squirrel, Max."

Max's vision cleared and she found herself back on the path with Logan.

Purposely ignoring his gaze, she turned on the animal and hissed, "Bite me!" then watched it dart back into the undergrowth without a second's pause. "Dumb-ass things," she muttered.

"An X5 taking on a squirrel…now _that's_ something I'd like to see."

Max looked down at him, hoping her smile wasn't too forced. "I could teach that squirrel a move or two," she boasted.

"Oh, I'm sure you could," Logan agreed, pushing on once more, a trace of ironic admiration in his tone.

Max threw a sidelong glance at him. "You know, seeing as how you've chosen such a whack profession, maybe you should let me teach you a move or two," she suggested lightly.

"Yep, you never know when I may have to take on a squirrel."

"I'm serious, Logan. I could show you some basic self-defence techniques that would be perfect for…"

"I don't think so," he broke in with unmistakable finality.

"K. Just an idea," she murmured, quickly changing the subject. "So, whadayou make of Mueller's dealio in all of this?"

"I have no idea."

"I found our thieving raccoon dead last night."

Logan paused for a brief instant before looking up at her. "I found four dead deer up by the homestead chimney, too," he admitted.

"Someone or some_thing's_ been kinda busy." Her tone was casual, but the intent look in her eyes gave her away as she carefully scanned the forest while they walked. There was no reason for her to suppose that they were being watched, but she felt uneasy all the same. _Some kinda whack instinct,_ she wondered? Instinct she understood, but this felt like something more than that – deeper, almost primal – more like the urge to survive. Its intensity unnerved her. _Damn it,_ _Max… chill! _she berated herself

"So, you have any idea where Tex hangs out up here?" Logan was asking as he stopped at a fork in the path they were on. "This is the path I saw him take the other morning," he told her, hands on wheels, motioning with his head towards an overgrown path that headed towards the river then away from their own campsite.

Max stared, distracted by a huge, black raven that soared into the air as if it had been disturbed by their arrival.

"_Max?"_ Logan prompted.

Concentrating with a little difficulty on their conversation, she answered, "I got the idea he was somewhere downstream from us. Guess I'll swing that-a-way – see what I can see. You should head back to the car. I'll bring him to you."

Logan heard her out, but shook his head a little at her words. "I'm not sure it's such a good idea to be seen talking with him, just in case anyone's around. We don't know when the sheriff'll be back."

Max nodded, thinking quickly. He had a point. On the other hand, she didn't want him to wait out in the open. "Why don't you follow the path with me to the river? It gives good cover – you can do your meet there."

Logan looked down the narrow dirt track. Reading his thoughts, Max commented, "The path to the river should be clear enough for you."

In answer, Logan pushed down hard on his wheels to get moving again, following Max, who'd quickly moved in front of him to take the lead.

A few times she had to hold back low hanging branches for him and clear the path of forest debris, but generally the track was well suited for their purpose. It certainly provided plenty of cover from prying eyes. Picking up a particularly large branch that had obviously come down in the latest wind, Max tossed it to the side then turned back to Logan.

"Everything okay back there?"

"Everything's fine. Why do you keep asking that?" he replied testily as he caught up with her again.

"Why do you keep stopping?" she countered.

"Just checking for more twigs."

"I _cleared_ them, Logan."

"You _missed_ some," he ground out, pointedly not looking at her as he paused to look at the view before him.

It opened out into a small clearing where it hit a sloping, muddy riverbank then meandered off in either direction following the course of the river itself.

Logan was about to move on when Max held up her hand for him to stop.

"Someone's been here," she told Logan, catching site of a single footprint in the soft mud. Squatting down by the water's edge, she examined every inch.

"What is it?" Logan called to her from higher up, hesitant to get his wheels jammed up in the mud.

Max studied the area closely. Something didn't feel right. Finally her eyes settled on the river itself. The water flowed slowly at this point and a small indentation in the bank had become a natural reservoir for any flotsam drifting into the area. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and she looked upstream.

"Wait here," she muttered in a terse undertone as she rose to her feet and grabbed a branch above her head. "I gotta do some recon," she snapped as she swung herself along to the next branch within reach then lifted herself up onto the bough.

"Max?" Logan called to her in a loud whisper, but by that time she'd disappeared into the foliage. "Damn," he muttered, listening intently for something that would explain Max's behaviour. A few times he thought he heard the snap of a twig – the first sound was enough of a warning to have him reaching for his gun in the bag behind him.

After a few moments of tense silence, he put the gun in his lap and gently eased his brakes off and faced upstream, the direction he'd seen Max disappear.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Don't come any closer," cautioned Max. "Looks like they duked it out for quite a while."

"Right," Logan murmured vaguely, eyes locked on the sight before him.

"Sorry, I shoulda given you some sorta heads up," Max apologised as she saw him finally look away.

Logan swallowed then steeled himself to look again.

"By the looks of it, we weren't the only ones who figured he could drop the knowledge."

"Damn," Logan answered blankly as he wondered what sort of person would do that to another.

"I wouldn't have called it a handsome face, but at least he used t'have one," Max commented as she dragged Tex back by his legs another few feet from the river.

"I don't suppose…"

"I didn't see anyone. I found him half lying in the water. He didn't drown," she added expressionlessly.

"Then…?"

"His face has been beaten to a pulp and he's been stabbed, Logan," she told him bluntly.

Logan looked up at her sombrely, considering all she was. He didn't like the hardness he saw in those dark eyes. It was too much like the homicide cops he used to interview in his early days as a journalist - the ones who were battle weary of death, viewed it as a commonplace everyday occurrence. Only thing was, Max was barely twenty. Part of him wanted to judge her; the other part wanted to change her. He knew both instincts were probably wrong.

Logan looked back to Tex. It was a little easier if you didn't look at what had been his face. "We should…"

"...check the body," she finished for him.

Logan nodded mutely, looking at the distance between him and Tex, the steep slope, the mud slick with blood.

"Way ahead o' ya," Max added, tossing him a small, tattered spiral-bound notebook before returning to the body.

Logan flicked through it. Mostly it seemed to be empty, other than what appeared to be some dates randomly scattered through the dog-eared pages.

"Looks like he might've had a name after all," commented Max, holding up a wallet for Logan to see.

Impatiently, Logan put aside his squeamishness and released his brakes, pushing forward as Max continued her search. "Anything else there?"

"You wanna be careful," Max cautioned, standing up fully as she saw his intention and cringing a little inwardly that maybe she sounded like a smartass or even worse, like his mother.

Seeing that he chose to ignore her, she walked up the slope towards him, intending to give him the wallet.

"Find anything else on the body?" he asked her tersely once she was only a few feet away.

Max was about to answer when Logan's front wheels hit a particularly boggy patch and sank without warning into the mud, stopping his chair with an abrupt, jarring jolt.

Caught off guard, Logan started falling forward. Instinct made him put his hands forward instead of holding onto his wheels.

Max tossed the wallet into his lap and quickly placed two restraining hands on his shoulders as she saw him caught unawares.

"I would've thought one swim in this river would've been enough for you," she murmured, her face only inches from his own as she applied a little pressure to push him back to a safer equilibrium.

Keenly aware of their position, Logan replied, "Guess you can never have too much of a good thing," but his eyes never left her face. As he stared into hers he wondered how he could have ever thought their darkness looked hard and unfeeling. From this distance, they were anything but.

"Right," Max murmured, slowly stepping back, her eyes falling on the wallet. Logan followed her gaze. "You should check…/I should check this out," they said almost in unison.

"I'll just make sure I didn't miss anything down there," Max added with a nod towards Tex.

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Logan had manoeuvred himself into a better position and was opening the well-worn brown, leather wallet by the time Max returned from a swift final inspection.

"This is it," she stated, holding up an almost completed figure of a girl whittled in wood.

Logan looked up. "No knife?"

"Nope."

Max watched Logan's fingers rifle through the wallet.

"Not much money in here," he commented.

"Who needs scrilla up here?" Max shrugged, moving to look over his shoulder.

"He's got a driver's licence. According to this his name is Cary Beaudine, born in seventy three, of no fixed address."

"Cary – no wonder he called himself 'Tex'," Max commented derisively.

"What's wrong with _Cary?_ I had an uncle called that."

"Cary Cale?" Max smiled.

"My _mother's _side."

"Oh. Still, pretty dope, don't ya think?" Max said with raised brows. "I would've bet his name was Smith or Jones or…I've heard that name before…" she trailed off, thoughtful all of a sudden.

"That's it," Logan told her flatly, looking up at her from the closed wallet. "Not much to go..."

"The newspaper clippings!" Max interrupted.

"He was in them as well?"

"No, but one of the hikers that disappeared was a Marcus Beaudine. _Coincidence?"_ she asked in a voice that said she clearly thought not.

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions," Logan murmured cautiously.

"Damn, he told me he didn't like murderers…said he'd met one of the hikers that disappeared. Logan, what if it was his son or something?" Max was surprised to feel a sudden rush of pity for the dead man.

"I guess it would explain him hanging around up here all these years," Logan said quietly with a glance down the slope at Tex's feet. "The warnings he gave me..."

Logan stopped abruptly and stared up at Max. "You about to do the Tarzan thing again?" he asked, not entirely joking_. "Max?"_

Max turned around quickly, almost positive she'd seen something...the hint of movement from behind the trees.

An uncomfortable fear rose in her throat; it had been a long time since she'd felt quite like this.

There it was in her mind all over again - a flickering newsreel of searchlights, snow, guns, dogs.

She remembered her terror. She'd held it fiercely in check - her childhood training taught her emotions weren't to be trusted. They were the enemy. They could get you killed.

More than anything, she remembered her determination that she was never going back there…would do whatever it took…stop whoever tried to stop her..._and now they were coming for her again._

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"Max, what is it?" Logan called to her in a deep whisper as he saw her glassy-eyed stare.

"They're coming," Max murmured, her eyes searching every inch of their surroundings as if the trees themselves were about to attack.

"_Who's_ coming?" Logan whispered back, easing off his brakes in readiness as he hastily glanced about.

They both heard the noise. Logan couldn't be sure what it was he _thought_ he heard but whatever it was it made Max take action.

Turning to him, she snapped authoritatively, "Logan, you've gotta get down, _now."_

"_Max!"_ he cautioned her, definitely uneasy as he saw the determined look in her eye.

The next second he was watching the muddy ground rush to meet him and he landed with a soggy thud, spread-eagled on the muddy slope, just below the crest of the hill.

Max stared at him impassively for an instant then, in the manner of a panther stalking their prey, she moved up the slope.

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"Max!" Logan hissed, twisting his head around. He had little more than a glimpse of her as she disappeared over the crest of the hill. _"Max!"_

"_Why am I not surprised?" _he muttered when there was no sign of her return.

For the moment he couldn't decide if he was furious with her or alarmed _for_ her. It felt as though she'd almost pulled his arm from its socket. "Damn it," he muttered, deciding on angry as he thumped the ground with a clenched fist. The spattering of mud that sprayed up on his face and glasses did nothing to improve his state of mind or aid his vision.

Getting up on his elbows he looked around cautiously. He couldn't see over the crest of the hill but everything else appeared as it had when they'd found Tex's body. Logan frowned, not quite sure what to make of things. He didn't trust his own eyesight. Max was physically superior to him in every way – if there was something to be seen, chances were she would have spotted it. _Great…meanwhile she leaves me here stranded._

The glint of metal further up the hill made him remember the gun that had been on his lap when Max had dragged him from his chair.

Pulling himself forward, Logan was making reasonable progress until he noticed the ground ahead of him looked far muddier than what he'd landed in. He stared at the patch vindictively. The way things were going, it seemed only natural that his gun would land in the middle of that particular patch. Logan let out an exasperated sigh. _They sure didn't cover this scenario in rehab._

A few choice adjectives to describe Max and life in general occurred to him at this point before he determinedly pulled himself forward again.

He could imagine how one of the young PTs in rehab would have dealt with this. Her singsong voice echoed annoyingly in his ears: _Today, Mr. Cale, we're going to teach you how to drag yourself through mud. For this exercise you'll get a total upper-body workout using the deltoids, pectorals, triceps, and biceps. Not something we're likely to need to do every day (accompanied by an annoying giggle), but it's always best to be prepared, isn't it?_

_Guess so, _Logan answered her image dryly, by this time, thoroughly muddy, wet, and disgruntled but within reach of his gun. He noted quickly that it had somehow managed to stay mostly on top of the mud…_unlike me who feels like I'm swimming in it._

Once he'd grasped the gun, Logan took the time to carefully check his surroundings once more. The muted grey of dawn had lightened considerably since he and Max had set out for the restrooms, but he still saw no sign of any sinister figures in the bushes either side of the clearing he was in.

His overturned chair looked particularly tempting now that he was closer to it but he didn't like his chances of being able to haul himself into it on such a steep, slippery slope. He wondered irritably what the high-voiced PT would have said to him on that score. He definitely hadn't been her star pupil. All he'd wanted to do was learn the basics - enough to enable him to get out of rehab as quickly as possible.

Propped on his elbows, he turned his attention to his gun, checking that it was loaded and ready for firing after first finding a clean spot on his clothing to wipe his hands. The top of his arms seemed to have fared a little better than the rest of him and made a good 'towel'.

A quick glance still showed no sign of Max or anyone else. He discovered how unnerving solitude could sometimes be. Listening intently for what seemed ages, all he could hear was the quietness of the now still forest echoing in his ears. The birds were eerily silent once more and it made him wonder uncomfortably, yet again, if the animals around here knew something that he didn't.

Logan shook his head, a worried expression on his face. _Dammit, Max. What's going on here, anyway?_

His anger was beginning to make way for a creeping, steadily growing alarm.

_I should've heard something from her by now. _

Suddenly, Logan heard a flapping sound. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a black shape rising high into the air. Logan nervously twisted his head in that direction and gripped his gun that little bit tighter as he watched the scavenger's outstretched wings hover over Tex's body.

Scanning the area by the river carefully, he could see nothing there to cause him alarm - that is if he ignored Tex's bloody body. He wondered what the hell Max was thinking when she ran off…_If she was thinking at all,_ he added with a frown. There'd been an expression in her eyes he'd never seen before.

Not quite sure what tipped him off, he whipped his head back the other way and this time lifted his gun. The click as he released the catch seemed to echo all around him.

He recognised those legs. They seemed to hesitate in coming closer to him, stopping by his upturned chair.

A guarded, distant look in her eyes told him all he needed to know. Relief surged through him that she was safe, quickly followed by a resurgence of his earlier emotion.

"Hey."

He was glad that her voice sounded uneasy…maybe even guilty, but he had no inclination to let her off the hook too easily.

Slipping the catch on, Logan met her eyes coolly. "So, that one of the _moves_ you wanted to teach me, Max?"

Max hesitated, wincing inwardly. His expression and tone of voice told her all she needed to know – he was pissed with her, big time. _Well, can't say I blame him._

"Not exactly," she admitted. She took a breath before continuing. "How whack is that? Looks like I screwed up. I couldn't find any…"

Ignoring her words, Logan broke in coldly, "There's a shack over there by the river. You should check it out. You might wanna pick up Tex's notebook and wallet while you're at it," he added dryly, motioning with his head to where they lay.

Max felt a telltale surge stain her cheeks. _Okay, if that's the way he wants to play it, _Max glared at him, brown eyes stormy.

If she thought to stare him down, she was wrong. Even from his difficult angle, Logan gave her back look for look.

Max eventually gave in, dropping her eyes as her conscience nagged her that perhaps he had every right to be pissed with her this time.

"'Kay," she muttered, with a slight nod, silently righting his chair for him and setting it on even ground before she walked away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Thank you," Logan, now seated in his chair on even ground, said with cold politeness as he took the couple of Kleenex she'd pulled from her pocket and offered him.

Max watched him take off his glasses and rub at the lenses to get them clean. For once words failed her. X5s weren't supposed to make mistakes like this. She winced as her eyes took in fully the extent of the damage she'd inflicted on him. OC had extolled the virtues of mud in unclogging the pores…she hadn't said anything about what it did for clothes and shoes and wheelchairs.

She wanted to explain it all to him – how wound up she'd felt, how she'd wanted nothing more than to protect him, to save them both. _Save him from what…phantoms?_ her mind ridiculed. _Face it, Max – you screwed up, big time…acted like a complete flake._

_Damn, first I nearly drown him then I throw him head first into a mud bath. Just great! _

She wondered how many apologies it would take to at least establish, at best, some sort of working relationship with him again. _That's an awful lot of mud he's got on him, Max…_

"So, just how far do I need to grovel?" she tried tentatively. "I know my MO kinda left a lot to be desired." When he still didn't answer, she put a hand to her hip and admitted bluntly, "I should have come real that there was no one out there. I'm sorry, Logan."

Logan slowly finished wiping his hands then thoughtfully screwed the tissue into a tight ball. "You didn't screw up, Max," he admitted to her quietly without looking up.

Max frowned, confused, "Logan, _there was no one there._ I'm trained to observe, not _imagine."_

"Mueller must have given you the same thing he gave me," he told her calmly. Looking up he admitted, "I was pissed with you…but what you did wasn't your fault. Whatever the drug is, it plays with our minds…hooks onto things maybe way down in our subconscious. It's simple – you heard a noise, thought it was Lydecker or whoever."

"It was so real," Max murmured uncomfortably.

"Thing is, something triggered your behaviour, Max…maybe some sorta déjà vu thing…the river…Tex's body…the forest… I don't know."

"Thank you, Sigmund Freud," she shot back, but her eyes had hardened at his words. _The body in the forest_…would she ever forget that day?

"Max, the same thing is happening with me. I'm…seeing things that aren't there."

"You see dead people?" she quipped.

"Nothing quite so interesting," he replied evasively. "Wish it were."

"What do we do about this, Logan?" she asked hopelessly.

"Not much we can do. I don't think it'll happen again."

"You don't know that," she countered bluntly.

"I've been thinking about Chad."

Max raised both brows in enquiry. "You thinking about when he went all psycho on you?"

"That and Lucy's paranoia about the water. They seemed to be isolated incidences."

Max looked closely at Logan as a new thought occurred to her. "You think Mueller's involved in growing the dope?"

Logan shrugged. "Either that or he's clever enough to recognise what it is and help himself to it."

"That Mueller's going down," Max promised intently as her eyes rested on Tex's bloody body down by the river.

Logan looked up at her in surprise. "I thought after all this you'd be more determined than ever to get outta here."

Max's brows lifted in astonishment. "What? Leave now…when we've only just got our first lead?"

Logan opened his mouth to make a comment, then closed it just as quickly as he realised he was almost arguing against the very thing he wanted to do.

"So, what's our plan, Sherlock?"

"You find anything in the shack?"

"Looks like it was where Tex hung out, all right. Pretty basic…just him and the cockroaches, by the looks of it."

"Nothing else?" Logan prompted hopefully.

"That notebook's the only clue he's left us," Max replied, glancing at the muddy notebook and wallet now on Logan's lap.

"And all this gives us is some random dates."

"We need to see if they tie in with any of the dates in the newspaper clippings we took from Bowie's office."

"I'd kill for an internet connection out here," Logan sighed.

"You've got that intel you collected yesterday on your laptop."

"I'm gonna have to do some cross-checking," Logan answered thoughtfully, unlocking his brakes. "I need to check the date Marcus Beaudine disappeared."

"Tex musta been up here all this time looking for his son's killer," Max murmured sombrely.

"Possibly, but we need to check that Tex is definitely related to the Beaudine who disappeared."

"You wanna visit the sheriff's office again?" Max asked with a sinking sensation. It had been a close enough call the last time.

"Maybe just you this time," Logan told her wryly. "I can give you my passwords. You should be able to get the intel without me."

"Looks like we'll need to break out the van again."

"I just said I wasn't going," Logan reminded her.

"We need to stick together. Besides, I could do with a look-out - who knows what Sheriff Bowie's movements are."

"Right," Logan agreed, quickly changing his mind. "I guess we should notify Bowie about Tex anyway. We can hardly leave his body here like this."

"It's a good cover story if he happens to be in his office." She frowned suddenly. "Although I'm not sure it's the type of attention you want from Bowie – this'll be the second body you've discovered."

Logan shrugged. "Considering it would probably be physically impossible for me to inflict that sort of damage on someone, I'm not too worried. When do you wanna do this?"

"No time like the present. Why don't you start heading towards the van. This path'll take you to it. I'll detour and grab your laptop from the car."

Logan nodded, setting his chair in motion upstream. Max detoured off a little further on, leaving Logan to proceed towards the site where she'd left the decrepit VW van the previous day while she took a path that would lead her to their own site.

Max moved quickly but almost noiselessly along the trail. She hadn't forgotten that maybe somewhere out there lurked a killer who apparently enjoyed his work.

Within seconds the Aztek was in site and she immediately froze, shrinking back further into the cover of the trees.

A big, black shiny SUV was parked next to the Aztek. One man still stood by the driver's side but it was the other man that caused Max the most concern. He was unarmed, dressed in black pants and a three-quarter length woollen jacket. In fact, Max would have been happier if it had been a gun he held in his hand as he jumped down from their tent.

Anything would have been better than Logan's laptop.

_Damn, the one time he doesn't take it with him, _she cursed inwardly. She knew Logan had sophisticated passwords and protection but an icy chill had flowed through her at the thought that this could somehow lead to exposure for Eyes Only.

"Well, two should be child's play," she reasoned as she stealthily made her way closer to the Aztek, running from tree to tree.

Once she was as close as possible, she waited for the man with Logan's laptop to go around the side of the Aztek, where he was almost hidden from view to his colleague and closest to her.

Max didn't hesitate. Catching the man off guard, she lunged forward and wrested the laptop from his grasp with a vigorous twist. Swinging it protectively under her left arm, her right foot kicked out and sank with full force into the man's gut.

He let out an agonised 'oomph' as he doubled over, scarcely able to stand. His partner, alerted by the sound, drew his gun and raced around to the other side of Logan's car, only to waste a few precious moments staring in amazement at the sight of a strikingly beautiful young girl standing over his colleague.

When he saw Max turn in his direction, he quickly trained his gun on her and tightened his finger on the trigger.

Max didn't wait to see what he intended. Too far away to kick the gun from his hand, she ran to her right as the man fired, then swerved back in the other direction with a speed that totally confounded him and had him firing randomly in frustration trying to keep up with her. He was totally unprepared when she leapt in close. This time her foot smashed into the man's wrist and his gun went flying as his wrist bone shattered.

Max was about to congratulate herself when the sound of an approaching car made her look up and several voices startlingly close at hand started yelling at her, _"Stay still! Don't Move! Drop it!"_

Max immediately stood stock-still. _So much for child's play,_ she muttered as she sensed them approaching from the direction of the forest. _Looks like growing up's a bitch. Damn, where the hell did these guys come from? _

By this time the second black SUV had pulled up. Max cautiously looked around. Two similarly dressed, black-coated men had her covered and another two were rushing in her direction from the car. One sidetracked to help the two injured men to their feet while the other man joined his companions who held their guns on Max.

Max calmly stood still, her mind swiftly running through her options.

"Drop the laptop!" one of them called to her.

Max eyed the arsenal trained on her. "Don't ya think this is a bit of an overkill?"

"Just do it!"

"Whatever," she shrugged, placing the laptop next to a fallen branch as they walked closer. Once they were within range, her hands snaked out with a speed that was almost hard to follow and grabbed the branch. Swinging it viciously like a baseball bat at their legs, Max hit them with enough force to completely knock the first man down and totally upset the balance of his companions as his momentum carried him sideways and onto them. Before they had a chance to stand, Max swung around and hit the other man, who was trying to assist his companion with the broken wrist. Another flurry of movement had her swinging back to the fallen men who had almost untangled themselves only to be attacked by Max again. They weren't sure what it was that was hitting them, but in the space of a few seconds they found themselves unarmed and in considerable pain.

Max grabbed as many guns as she could and threw them into the forest before scooping up the laptop and running at top speed in the direction of the homestead ruins.

She didn't notice the white-haired man in the back of the second SUV who watched her movements admiringly. _You're quite exceptional, my dear…quite exceptional._

"Sorry, sir. She got away."

Horst Mueller looked up at the man who stood panting heavily by his open window.

"Catch her. _I want that girl!"_

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_To be continued…_


	14. Eye of the Tiger

A big thanks to all those who've been reading and I really appreciate all the feedback and reviews.

As always, huge thanks to Alaidh and I really am trying to remember that it's not 'camping ground' but 'campground.'

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DEEP

CHAPTER 14

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Max ran as fast as she could through the forest, at first making as much noise as possible as she weaved through the tress. She only let up on her speed here and there to snatch at some branches as she went by, bending or snapping them. She didn't know how good the black-coated guys would be at following a trail, but she wasn't going to take any chances.

At first Max could hear the sound of her pursuers, but within minutes the only sound she could hear was her own steady breathing as she ran.

Max remembered the adrenalin rush she'd always felt at Manticore during _Escape and Evade exercises. _She'd always been good at it. This time it was different. It wasn't just about her_. Maybe this is why Zack's always so glum._

Reaching the plateau where the ruins of the homestead stood, Max paused and took stock of the situation. She felt reasonably sure that she'd achieved her objective in leading the black-coated men away from Logan. She'd certainly tried to make it as obvious as possible that she was heading in that direction.

Her main concern now was to get to Logan. She was sure that he would have heard the gunfire – _It'd be just like him to go all heroic and think he'd have to have my back. _

With Logan's laptop clutched under her arm, Max plunged back into the forest. This time she was careful to remain undetected and leave no trace of her presence. Running at full speed, she circumvented the campground until she was able to approach the site, where she'd left the VW van, from the opposite direction.

Stopping to draw breath behind a tree, she quickly scanned the campsite. The VW looked to be exactly as she'd left it. Of Logan there was no sign. _Again._

"Logan!" she called in a loud whisper, waiting hopefully for a reply.

Nothing.

_Logan, I'm so gonna kick your ass if you swung back looking for me._ "Logan!" she called again, this time a little louder, a trace of annoyance tingeing the tone.

"Max!"

She stepped out from behind her tree as she saw him emerge from a narrow path between some leafy bushes on the other side. She had to quickly hide a grin – he was filthy from head to toe. He looked miserable.

"Hey, how yah doin'?" she called to him, still trying to suppress a smile.

"I'm okay," he called abruptly to her across the clearing, then, after a slight pause, "my leg hurts a bit, that's all."

Everything in Max froze. The hint of laughter vanished.

"That's a bitch," she replied coolly, but she didn't break her stride as she walked towards him.

She could see the warning look in his eyes, telling her to come no closer.

"Yep, it's always the same _one_." He placed the slightest stress on the last word.

_Okay. One perp. But where is he, Logan?_

As if reading her mind his eyes flickered to his right.

Max's mind was racing. Logan no longer had his gun on his lap. She had to presume he had a gun trained on him. What was the game? Was the guy waiting for her to come within range? Damn - things were becoming complicated.

"I ran into some whack-jobs back there," she continued easily as her eyes restlessly probed the trees and bushes behind him for a sign of what they were up against…_and there it _is

_She'd never hated Lydecker more than at that moment. She remembered the complete lack of emotion on his face…the gun in his hand…Eva falling to the floor._

Max blinked and shook her head. _Get a grip, Max,_ she raged at her mind silently.

With a rush of relief, the image wavered into nothingness, leaving its calling card of sweaty palms and a racing heart.

"Max?" Logan's voice called to her. She could see him watching her closely. She knew he'd caught her spacing for that split second. Her eyes went purposely back to the gun she'd seen protruding from the bushes. It was trained on Logan's back.

"Yeah, they were aiming to jack your laptop. Who woulda thunk – thieves up here?" Her breathing steadied. She was back on track.

"You should have stayed away from the car," Logan told her meaningfully. His eyes flashed her another warning. She obviously wasn't playing this the way he'd wanted…_which is why I never agreed to be your field commander._

"Ask Zack, he'll tell you I'm no good with orders."

Logan looked at her with frustration. She was now no more than four yards from him, not directly in front but slightly to his right. He'd done everything he knew to stop her from walking into a trap. Not daring to move forward an inch, his grip on his wheels tightened.

It was at that precise moment that all hell broke loose.

With a loud yell, Max charged forward – heading straight at the gun. Logan twisted instinctively and looked behind him, just in time to see the barrel swiftly change directions and aim at the more threatening protagonist.

"Max!" Without thought he copied Max by yelling out then spun around and headed towards the gun. Immediately the barrel swung back to him.

The thought crossed his mind that this probably wasn't the smartest move he'd ever made as the perp suddenly stood up and purposefully squeezed the trigger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max quickly straddled the man's chest, pinning both arms beneath her legs and proceeded to alternately smash each fist into the man's jaw until she heard a voice say, "Max. You're gonna kill him."

She turned her head to stare at him, not sure if her intensity of emotion was some dredged up Manticore response or simply due to the closeness of the call. A look of disgust crossed her face. Whether directed towards the perp or herself, Logan wasn't sure, but her next words were definitely directed towards him as she jumped up.

"_What the hell was that stunt you just pulled?"_

Not expecting the attack, Logan looked up at her. "The stunt _I pulled?"_ he asked incredulously. "What about you? I _warned_ _you_ to stay away!"

"Logan, I had the guy aiming at _me_ for a reason!" Max retorted, pulling back the unconscious man's jacket to find Logan's gun tucked in his waistband.

"What, you're 'SuperMax' now? I don't remember anything about X5s being bullet-proof!"

Glaring eyes met briefly before Max held out his gun for him to take, saying in an urgent tone, "Come on. We've got to get to the van. That gunshot could have the whole pack of black-coats descending on us."

"What about him?" Logan asked with a jerk of his head as he moved forward.

"I'll see to him. You head to the van."

Logan had only gone a short way when Max caught up. "He'll be in la la land for hours," she told Logan with satisfaction.

"What happened back there, anyway?" he asked tersely.

"Guys with guns."

Logan frowned. _"What_ guys?"

"No time," she called to him curtly, heading around to the passenger side door of the VW and opening it wide. "I'll tell you while we drive. Jump in the van."

"You followed?" Logan asked as he grabbed his bag, handing it and his gun into Max's waiting, outstretched hand.

"Hope not – otherwise this baby'll need wings," Max replied, giving the van an affectionate whack with her open hand.

"This baby can hardly _crawl,"_ Logan muttered as he hauled himself into it.

"Maybe it's got some moves you don't know about," Max suggested, as she wasted no time sliding open the back door and stowing his gear and chair.

"Right," snorted Logan, snapping his seatbelt in place with difficulty. The buckle didn't seem to want to catch, at first.

Logan fumbled and finally got the belt secured while Max swiftly tied the door shut and started the van.

"What's your plan?" Logan asked her as he silently willed the engine to catch.

"I'm still working on one," Max admitted. "But a quick getaway seems like the best idea, for now. _That's it_," she grinned across at him triumphantly as the engine finally started its distinctive chug.

Logan winced as it backfired twice as Max accelerated. "That's not good."

Max appeared unconcerned. Now that they were moving she felt less tense. Logan noticed how the adrenalin rush made her eyes sparkle. For his part all he felt was uneasy. Guys with guns, Max had said. Her meaning when she'd turned on him before had been clear _- bullets_, easy for Max to evade, maybe, _but let's face it Logan, your track record in that department hasn't been good._ Logan drew breath – things were becoming way too complicated.

"Max, we need to get outta here."

"Finally!"

"Hey, you're the one that said we should stay."

"Only 'cause I figured you were too stubborn to leave."

"You're not heading for my car?" Logan queried, noting they were heading in the opposite direction.

"Those guys were swarming all over it when I left. No way we can go back there now. Trouble is, in this thing we're little better than sitting ducks."

"Tell me about it," Logan murmured. He clutched at the dashboard as they hit a huge hole in the road that led into the farthest parts of the campground.

"Oops. Sorry. This road's a bitch," Max said with a frown of concentration as she stared out the windshield.

"D'you remember where this road leads to?"

"Twists and turns, winding all about the place. Eventually it ends up back near the entrance."

Logan twisted in his seat and looked behind them, half-expecting to see some sign of pursuit any moment. "Can't this crate go any faster?"

When Max didn't answer, he turned to her. She'd wound her window down and was intently studying each area they passed. She clearly seemed to have some plan. "What've you got in mind?" he asked tersely.

"I'm thinking that we can't afford to get into a chase driving 'grandma' here. If we can find a place to hide, we can lay low for a few hours until it's dark. Then, when the coast is clear, I'll go and get your car."

"And we high-tail it outta here," Logan agreed flatly. He found it hard to hide his dissatisfaction, no matter how sensible a move this was.

"Hey, once you're back in front of all your hi tech, whiz bang stuff, you can probably nail these guys in three seconds flat."

"Guess so," Logan nodded.

"And the good thing is – you'll be_ alive_ to do it!" Max pointed out with irony.

Logan nodded again, watching Max continue her search. "Just how do we manage to hide this thing, anyway?" he asked, suddenly curious. "You planning on doing a David Copperfield?"

"I'm looking for some firm ground leading into the forest, so that we won't leave any tracks – _then _I do the whole David Copperfield thingy. Shhh," she finished abruptly.

"What is it?" Logan whispered regardless, amazed she could hear anything over the chugging of the motor behind them.

"Not sure…could be a car…SUV maybe. Maybe nothing at all."

Logan twisted to look behind again. "I don't see anything."

"We've gotta get off this road," Max murmured, intently searching for a suitable spot where their tyre tracks wouldn't be seen. The forest was thickly wooded either side of them, but not so dense that they wouldn't be able to find a path for the van by weaving through the trees. They were moving further away from the river that flowed on their left, but Max much preferred to enter the forest on the right. Otherwise, they could find themselves cut off.

"Okay, here we go," Max muttered, swinging the wheel hard. The van turned from the potholed road and lurched its way down a small incline covered with pine needles and headed straight for two trees.

Logan held his breath. No way was there enough room for the van to manoeuvre without hitting something very large in the small confines that Max had chosen.

Max continued to swing hard on the wheel.

Logan had images of the Titanic grinding against the iceberg as, at the last minute, the van scraped its way between two trees.

"Sweet," murmured Max with satisfaction. Logan thought she'd slow down now that they were amongst the trees, but if anything, she sped up.

"You're not on your motor bike," he reminded her as, in avoiding yet another tree, they sideswiped a blackberry bush. Logan cringed as the thorns scraped squeakily along the side of the van.

She shot him an ironic look. "You worried about the paint job?"

"Nooo," Logan drawled, reminded of the screech of fingernails on chalkboards. "I'm just hoping you don't tip us over before we reach wherever it is we're heading to."

She grinned, not taking her eyes from the windshield. "I thought heights were the only thing you were afraid of. Besides," she added dismissively, "I've handled way bigger rigs than this." As an afterthought she added, "You'd better keep an eye on that door though. I aim to put as much distance between ourselves and the campground as possible."

"I've noticed Manticore wasn't big on humility," he muttered as he tightened his hold on his seatbelt.

"Manticore wasn't big on a lotta things."

They plunged through the forest for another fifteen minutes, Max proving how well she could multi-task by filling him in on what went down at his car. Logan now kept his thoughts about her driving skills to himself, but he was definitely glad when she squeezed through some dense bushes, only to find themselves ringed by more of the same bush, and stopped.

"Perfect," she announced, surveying their hideaway with a satisfied air.

Logan looked about. She was right – the bushes were thick enough to make them almost invisible.

Max turned off the engine and wound down her window. For a moment they both sat, taking in the silence and listening for any sound of pursuers.

"You hear that?" Logan murmured.

Max looked at him, puzzled.

"Birds," he pointed out.

"Oh. Right."

"You realise we've hardly heard any birdlife up here since the morning Poggs died. Kinda weird, don't you think?

"Everything's weird about this place. No wonder Zack didn't wanna hang around."

"Right," Logan replied a little shortly then turned and stared out his window, apparently studying the greenery.

Max looked across at Logan, a flicker of indecision in her eyes. She opened her mouth, about to speak, then closed it, turning to open her door instead. "I'm just gonna check if we've made any tracks. Won't be long."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max cautiously followed their trail back to where they'd turned off into the forest. Here and there she found a slight indentation from the weight of the van, but fortunately the ground beneath the thick covering of pine needles and other forest debris was firmly packed.

Once she reached the campground road, she approached slowly. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sound of a car engine – probably an SUV by the sound of it. It seemed to be coming from somewhere near where they'd camped. Max hesitated – she was tempted to do some recon, find out exactly who these guys were and what their game was.

The sensible side of her immediately said: _Yeah, and if you get jammed up, where does that leave Logan? _

Damn, it sure was tempting…she was an X5. She couldn't deny it – part of her craved danger for all her talk about keeping her head down. Why else had she chosen cat burglary as a profession? _If Zack was here I would._

_No, if Zack was here all he'd be worried about would be exposure, _her mind broke in quickly.

The kick-ass vision she had of her and Zack swooping in and taking down the bad guys then returning triumphantly to Logan evaporated.

_Right – he's not exactly into saving the world. _She sighed. _That's Logan's dealio._

Turning purposefully away from the road, Max headed back into the forest.

When she got back to the van, Logan had taken his muddy jacket off and turned it inside out so that he could sit his laptop on his legs without coating it in mud as well. He looked up when Max opened her door. "Everything okay?"

Max shrugged. "Guess so. Now all we've gotta do is wait 'til nightfall for me to grab your car."

"That's your plan?" Logan frowned.

"You got a better one?"

"Not really."

"Then we're stuck with it," she told him, climbing into her seat. "Eww."

Logan frowned at her.

"All that mud."

"_The mud,_ if you recall, isn't my fault," he told her as he watched her get out of her seat and head to the back of the van and start rummaging through any cupboard space she could find. "What are you doing?" he added suspiciously.

"Maybe there's something back here you could change into."

"That's highly unlikely," Logan said at once, not liking where this conversation was going.

"Oh, yeah?" she answered after a bit more rummaging. With a sexy lift to one eyebrow she held up a dilapidated sports bag for him to see. "_You_ are in luck."

"You don't even know what's in it," Logan countered.

"I can see a pair of jeans on top. Look to be about your size," she murmured as she yanked them out and held them up. "There's a heap o' stuff in here. Wonder why they didn't take it with them."

Logan thought back to that morning. "It's not customary to take a bag with you when you leave for the hereafter," he told her dryly.

"Oh," Max said quietly, looking a little less enthusiastic.

Logan turned back to his laptop, annoyed to find that, in spite of all his precautions, a smear of mud had made its way onto his screen. His other concern was the lack of battery power left – only about 15 minutes.

Hurrying now, he called up the notes he'd made from the newspaper clippings the evening Horst Mueller had shown up.

Max continued to forage in the back. Mostly she found a lot of empty cigarette packs, cigarette butts, and empty Coke cans. No food or drink, she noted regretfully, thinking they'd both be damned hungry by nightfall. At least they wouldn't freeze to death if it got really cold – there was still some bedding that had been thrown in one corner. She pounced on that thinking at last she had found something helpful, but her smile turned to distaste when she realised it was the blanket Poggs had been lying on when he died.

_Damn._

She went back to the sports bag.

Logan meanwhile had realised where the mud on his screen had come from. Both undersides of the cuffs on his sweatshirt were coated in it. With an annoyed grunt he pushed up both sleeves only to have the mud now smeared the length of his forearm.

"You _sure_ you don't want a change of clothes?" Max murmured, holding up a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt enticingly at his side.

"Max…"

"I know it's probably not the brand you'd usually choose, but they look to be about your size, they're _dry_ and, the _really big bonus is_ – they're not stiff as a board which is what your clothes will be as soon as they dry out."

She thought he was weakening. "You're only gonna get cold sitting there with that crap all over you, and it doesn't feel like it's gonna be a warm night."

Logan reached out and took them with a sarcastic, "Thank you, Mom,"

"Time for me to do some more recon, anyway," Max told him glibly, cringing at his words and wondering what made men so stubborn when it came to their own well-being. "I need to check out the terrain. Just in case…"

"Right, just in case…" he echoed dryly.

Max turned and slid out the side door. "Just yell if you need me," she told him, discreetly drawing the faded curtains before edging her way through the bushes directly in front of the van this time.

Logan leant across and put his laptop on Max's seat then looked at the clothes Max had given him. She was right – they did look to be about his size and, in spite of what he'd told Max, he had to agree that it would be good to change out of his present clothes. He just wished he didn't have to go to so much effort to do it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max, in fact, spent a good ten minutes checking the forest immediately around them, just in case they had to exit in a different direction from the way they'd come. She wasn't entirely happy with their current situation. She would have picked a dozen different scenarios if she'd had the choice, but she didn't see what else she could have done, given the givens. The VW didn't have enough gas in it for them to make a full getaway, not to mention the fact that they'd be easy prey for one of the much faster, modern SUVs the black-coats were driving and she'd had to get Logan to safety as fast as possible. At least, this way, they should be able to hold-up in the forest until it was safe enough for her to go back and get his car. Besides, at night she stood a much better chance of dealing with any opposition, should it arise.

Then all they had to do was get out of Murchison Woods in one piece and head back to Seattle. What Logan planned to do from there was anyone's guess. One thing she did know: he wouldn't let up on this until he had Mueller, and whoever else, nailed and pinned squirming on the highest tree.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Logan? You decent?"

She could just make out the van from where she stood. _Crap_. His seat was empty.

_Damn! Why is he never where I think he's gonna be?_ "Logan!" she called again, pushing through the bushes.

"I'm here."

Max came forward with relief and opened up her door – he'd been bent over, _in the back rear-facing seat_.

"Just doing up my shoe – didn't hear you," he explained.

One look at the passenger side seat explained why he was no longer sitting there – he would have simply transferred another few inches of mud to the dry clothes he'd just put on. "I thought maybe you could pass me something to cover the mud." As he said it he had a vague memory of his intent to return home and inform Bling that he hadn't had to ask Max to do anything for him. _C'est la vie. _For some reason, when you're stuck in an ugly van in the middle of a forest because guys with guns are trying to kill you and you're trying to avoid covering your ass in mud smeared with a corpse's blood, having to ask for help to get a blanket doesn't seem to be such a big deal.

"Sure," smiled Max, going around to the back door to retrieve the blanket she'd tossed down earlier. She figured if it was only his ass coming in contact with it, it shouldn't matter whether Poggs had died on it or not. _It's not as if he's gonna rub his face in it._

Once Max had the seat covered, she picked up his pile of muddy clothes and rolled them into a ball. "You wanna keep these?"

Logan's expression said clearly that he hoped he never saw them ever again. "'Kay," Max murmured, quickly taking the hint.

Stooping to pass into the back of the van, she moved past Logan and shoved them into the farthest corner then stood back as Logan had the arduous task of transferring back to the passenger seat.

Once he was seated, Max sat down opposite. "Mmm, you look nice," she grinned across at him.

"Next time I go camping with you I'm gonna remember to take ten changes of clothes," he answered, surprising her with one of his slow, wide smiles.

Max's smile lingered for an instant_. Wow, Mueller's drug must really have whacked his brain if he's even considering going camping with me again after all this. _

"Thank you," Logan added, feeling guiltily that some was due.

Max shrugged away his gratitude. "So, what do we do now for the next few hours?" she asked conversationally, leaning back and putting one foot up on the dashboard. "Play 'name that flora'?"

"I should open up my laptop," Logan replied, intending to sound enthusiastic as he half-heartedly looked around to see where he'd put it.

"You want it?" Max asked, finding it by her feet and kind of hoping that he'd say no.

"I'd say yes if I thought it was gonna do some good. Whatever Mueller gave me sure messed with my brain."

Max looked across at him with a quick concern.

"Not _now_," he added as he caught the look. "I mean last night. From the time we got back to our camp, most of the stuff I wrote was little better than gibberish."

Max let out a slow breath of frustration and stared out the window. "Has _anything_ gone right the whole time we've been up here?" When Logan didn't answer, she continued, "You think other people get to have weekends away without having to face all this crap?"

"It's a hurting world, Max. You don't have to look too hard to find it."

"Yep. Even if you're not looking, it's kinda hard to miss," she complained dryly. _Or they do what I did._ "Thing is, most people just ignore it," she said softly, thinking of all the times she'd done the same.

"Well, I guess a lot of people have enough of their own problems to deal with," Logan answered her. She had a feeling he was giving her an out, and she was tempted to take it, but how could she when she was sitting next to _him?_ He had as much of an excuse as she did, if not more, to start looking the other way, say that it was all too hard.

"It doesn't always make you feel good though, looking out for Number One, ya know?"

"I know," he answered quietly, studying her profile for a moment before returning his gaze to the windshield and the bushes and the trees.

Max looked across at him. Sometimes talking with Logan she felt like she was dipping into some sort of bottomless well of wisdom that was totally at odds with everything she'd been taught. She remembered how freaky she'd found the experience when it happened for the first time. Then quite quickly she found that if she let herself listen, more often that not she'd feel comforted when she hadn't even realised she'd needed it - that somehow her screwy life would all work out okay.

A natural silence fell over the van – each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Logan could sense his eyelids growing heavier. Now that they'd finally stopped, the strange feeling of tiredness that had been niggling at him all day came flooding back. He changed his position then let his head rest against the seat. Within seconds he was in a deep sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Phobia _– an irrational fear.

As a boy, hadn't he tried watching every 'fascinating documentary' the Discovery Channel had shown on them?

It hadn't helped.

_I wouldn't say I was afraid of them. Not liking something doesn't mean you're actually afraid of it._

And now he was dreaming about the damned things.

His mom had told him it was his creative side that was to blame - an overly active imagination that could too vividly create – and thanks to Horst Mueller, he'd been 'creating' them all day.

He didn't like their eight legs, the way they moved, the way they had a habit of appearing when you least expected them. He just didn't like them.

He particularly didn't like the large ones with furry bodies, and he was looking at one now. It sat on his left leg, sinister and silent, as if patiently waiting for the order to attack. They were always patient – it was part of their profile. They excelled at the 'waiting game.'

Its eight brown, hairy legs were bent, not splayed out, as if it was uncertain of its terrain, maybe even in attack mode. _Well, my leg's not gonna cause you any bother_, Logan thought, _and I'm sure as hell not going to bother taking a swipe at yet another phantom._

The movement was fast, almost no more than a blur. He jumped.

Logan stared with vacant fascination at the obliterated remains on his leg for several moments before Max's accusing voice broke the spell. "_What the hell are you doing?"_

Logan looked at her, acutely aware that he _should_ have a ready reply but his mind still had to deal with the unnerving fact that what he'd thought was a dream had in fact been reality and the dismembered, twitching leg was a major distraction.

"Is this another Eyes Only dealio? I thought you were meant to be the protector of widows and small children! This thing _creeps,_ Logan – _creeps_ you're supposed to deal with!" Logan opened his mouth to reply… "Didn't you see that it was all geared up to sink its fangs into you? You were staring right at it! Don't tell me," she mocked, "you were one of those kids that grew up watching the Discovery Channel and now, as well as wanting to save the world, you want to save every insect on the whole damned _planet?_"

"Not exactly…"

"So what if it's some trick-ass specimen from South America or the moon for that matter?" Max let her eyes travel along the ceiling with a frown. "This thing is crawling with the damned things."

"You've accounted for one, at least," Logan told her carefully, wondering uneasily how many others Max had seen.

Max glanced down at the flattened carcass presently oozing yellow juices onto the leg of his pants and made a face. "Damn, you'd better wipe that off – for all we know it could be some sorta poison oozing out of it," she told him, hastily handing him an old T-shirt that was wedged along the dashboard, probably for use as a de-mister. Max watched, with thoughtful silence, as he wiped the remains of the spider off his leg and onto the floor of the van with the rag.

"Nice," he murmured coolly as the last remnants fell.

"Sorry. I just didn't like the idea of it biting you," Max said more temperately.

Logan nodded, keeping his voice light. "Tell the truth, I'm not that keen on the idea either."

Max spoke again, her voice unusually serious. "We still don't know what killed Poggs," she reminded him quietly. Cutting off a protest from Logan, she said quickly, "I'm not laying odds that it's the spiders, but while we don't have the 411 on what's causing so much roadkill up here, I'm not about to take any chances."

"At least we know that Tex's killer was flesh and blood," Logan offered.

"Great. Now we're dealing with a psycho as well as extra-terrestrials, not to mention the perps with guns at your car," Max retorted bitterly.

After a few moments, she noticed that the silence between them had begun to swell. A quick glance across at Logan showed him staring stonily outside.

"You did your best, Logan," she offered quietly.

"Sometimes it's just not enough, is it?"

Max winced at his tone, not sure what to say. "It'll be dark soon," she finally murmured. "Plenty of clouds around. It's gonna be a dark night - should help our cause."

Logan lifted his eyes and let them focus, wondering yet again what Mueller's involvement was in all this as he watched the bushes and trees surrounding them slowly turn into indistinct shadows.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Time for me to bounce."

Logan looked across at her. "You'll be careful, won't you." It was more of a command than a question.

"Aren't I always?" she flung back flippantly over one shoulder as she slid out of the car.

"_Max."_

"Yeah, yeah. Don't sweat it, Logan. All I intend to do is grab your car so that we can blow home."

She saw the flicker of he-who's-left-behind-to-wait discontentment cross his features, but he nodded his head in agreement.

"You just make sure you're waiting here for me when I get back," she added warningly, pulling a face as the cold wind outside tugged at her jacket and she realised how cold the night was. "Here, you'd better put this on," she told Logan, reaching into the back of the van for a heavy, brown jacket that she'd taken from the bag of clothes, and holding it out for him.

Logan eyed it suspiciously.

"On second thought," Max added. Taking it back, she shook it vigorously outside the car. "Just wanna be sure no eight-legged hitch-hikers have made it their crib," she told him.

"Nope, not a thing."

Logan reached across and took it from her. He wanted to ask her a million questions, find out exactly what she intended to do, how long she'd be, but all he said was, "Hey, see you when you get you back."

Max grinned. A quick glance checked that his bag was within reach, closed the door quietly, and was gone, swallowed up in the darkness.

Logan sat back with a sigh of frustration.

It was now pitch black outside. He could barely make out a thing outside the car, not even shadows, now. His phone had begun beeping an hour ago, telling him that the battery needed to be recharged and his laptop was flat as well.

He wondered how long a wait he'd have as he shrugged his arms into the jacket, thankful for its warmth over the light sweatshirt he'd put on earlier. The wind that was beginning to pick up again outside didn't seem to have any trouble at all finding its way into the old Volkswagen.

A sound outside near the back of the van made him turn his head quickly in that direction, but it was only the sound of branches scraping against the bus as the wind blew them.

For want of anything else to do, he reached down and took out his gun, checked that it was still loaded and placed it crossways on his lap.

The van felt particularly cheerless now that Max had gone.

Logan's eyes travelled carefully around its interior. He didn't want any more unexpected 'friends' dropping in on him. Satisfied for the moment that he seemed to be alone, he changed his position and tried not to think about how long Max might be. Then, as he sat there longer, he tried not to think about the more disturbing thought of what he'd do if Max didn't return at all. He checked his watch. She'd only been gone thirty-seven minutes.

_I hate waiting._

Time ticked on.

_Paralysed journalist found dead in car. _

His mind screamed the headline at him then obligingly showed him Jonas's reaction. He cheered himself with the thought that at least Aunt Margo would shed a tear. She'd certainly cried enough when she'd visited him that first time in hospital – anyone would've thought he'd died.

_Part of you did._

Logan shoved his hands roughly into the pockets of his jacket. That was the trouble with waiting – too many thoughts.

Absently Logan's fingers closed around something in the right-hand pocket as he stared outside. After a while he let his clenched jaw relax and let out a long breath that showed white in the air.

He looked down at his legs and saw the unfamiliar pants. With that came the realisation that it was Poggs's jacket that he wore, as well. Suddenly thoughtful, he pulled out the paper his fingers had been clutching.

He held a folded note.

Logan held the note up to his face. He could barely make out the words in the dark interior of the car. Quickly untying the rope that held his door shut, Logan swung it open as far as he could while still holding onto it. No cheery light pierced the darkness. "'Course not," he muttered cynically as he began to look around hopefully for some other form of illumination - maybe a flashlight left behind in their flight, matches, an old lighter, anything.

Reaching forward he popped the glove box and gingerly felt inside. _Maybe…_ Feeling that for once things were beginning to go right, he pulled out a disposable lighter.

Biting his lip he flicked it several times with his thumb. The hint of a smile crossed his face as a tiny flame flickered then grew bigger.

Logan held the note near the lighter. The writing was a dark uneven scrawl, barely legible, as if it had been written under great duress.

_Hey, man. Don't listen…_was quite clear, but after that, things became difficult. He could make out something about 'a load of crap' then the word 'leave' was quite clear…ahhh, _you've got to leave…_ then the last line stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the note. _DEATH is in the air_.

Logan swallowed. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

_DEATH. _

Whoever wrote the note had been damn keen to make their point. His eyes were caught by the single word that had been capitalised.

So this was one of the notes that Poggs had been talking about. No wonder all the others went crazy when they found the dropout med. student dead.

Logan stared at the note in the flickering light, not quite willing to admit that he felt a definite reluctance to extinguish the friendly, feeble flame.

_The power of suggestion,_ he mused. But it hadn't been 'suggestion' that had killed Poggs or Tex or those animals and birds.

_Death is in the air._

Couldn't whoever wrote this note have been a bit more forthcoming, written more clearly? A detailed account would have been nice, he thought wryly. It certainly would have saved him and Max a lot of trouble.

Suddenly realising that even a flicker of light could be spotted quite easily against the backdrop of darkness, Logan quickly put the lighter out…and waited.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Logan!"

His eyes opened suddenly. He'd fallen asleep again.

He looked across to find that Max had slid into the driver's seat. He wondered if she knew her own strength as her fingers gripped tightly on his arm as she shook him.

"I'm awake," he told her quickly, trying to make out her expression in the dark.

Max was never one to waste words.

"We're screwed, Logan. Your car's gone."

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_To be continued…_


	15. Numb

Thanks so much to all who reviewed the last chapter and encouraged me to get my act together and write the next one. Here it is at last, the next chapter!

A zillion thanks, as always, to Alaidh for her beta work on this chapter. She probably ended up reading this chapter about twenty times because I kept making changes! Where else could I find a beta with such in-depth knowledge of VW vans – or to those of us in Australia, the dreaded Kombi!

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DEEP

CHAPTER 15

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"Logan!"

His eyes opened suddenly. He'd fallen asleep again.

He looked across to find that Max had slid into the driver's seat. He wondered if she knew her own strength as her fingers gripped tightly on his arm to wake him.

"I'm awake," he told her quickly, trying to make out her expression in the dark.

Max was never one to waste words.

"We're screwed, Logan. Your car's gone."

His eyebrows lifted. "Gone?" he repeated. Maybe there was some other Manticore definition for the word _gone_, one that wouldn't leave him with this hollow feeling inside.

"Vamoosed, not there, missing, gone bye bye…"

"I think I've got the picture, Max," he assured her in his driest tone.

"I looked for tracks but once they hit the road it was too hard to tell which way they took it. I checked out the campgrounds – no sign of it anywhere."

"Well, we wouldn't want the mundane now, would we?" he murmured ironically.

"There's been nothing mundane about anything since we got here," Max muttered darkly, her thoughts boding ill for a certain X5 she knew.

Logan pulled Poggs's jacket tighter. It was damned cold in the van. "You think they took it into town?"

"My next likely choice," Max replied, still sounding annoyed. Looking across at Logan, she added in a milder tone, "But I thought I should swing back here first before I check it out."

"Don't know why you bothered. I'm not goin' anywhere, Max."

"We've still got the supersonic bus," she reminded him as she ran her hands over the large steering wheel in front of her. Her ears pricked at the underlying tone in his voice.

"Unfortunately, the supersonic bus doesn't run on air."

"You hear something?" Max's voice suddenly cut across his.

Logan stared outside. Against the darkness he could barely discern even vague forms of foliage.

Max's hand was already on the door handle, inching the door open. "I should do some recon before I go, anyway," she murmured as she slipped down from her seat.

"Knock yourself out," Logan invited her. The cramped, ancient confines of the old van were beginning to feel more and more like a prison.

Max threw him a look and was gone.

Left alone once more, Logan restlessly shifted position, all the while peering intently through the grimy windshield. He felt vaguely resentful towards Max and then felt vaguely ashamed of himself. After all, it wasn't her fault she had a better than perfect body.

I still wouldn't mind her eyesight, he muttered, nonetheless, as he reached forward irritably to shove the hanging half-broken sun visor out of the way.

"_Dammit!"_ Sucking in a deep breath, he withdrew his hand like lightning. Hundreds of tiny red-hot needles were piercing the skin around the knuckles of his right hand.

Logan swore softly under his breath as he shook the hand, trying to rid himself of the stinging pain while his mind screamed a warning at him – a vivid flash of a spider calmly crawling from the drop-out med student's ear. Logan froze. The thought of those brown, furry spiders was bad enough, but the thought of them hovering just above his head in the dark was definitely bordering on downright creepy. _And now I know that they bite. _

What he wouldn't have given then and there to leap out of the van and walk away - no definitely run away - as far as possible. _Not a good look, Logan,_ he had to admit as he wondered if he'd be able to think up some excuse to explain his undignified escape to Max. She who wasn't afraid of anything…

Putting aside his fantasies, he reached for the cigarette lighter he'd found before in the glove box. Not relishing the task, he carefully raised the tiny flame to the roof of the van and let the flickering, wispy flame show him the untold secrets of the dark.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max pressed on quickly into the night, determined to do her recon and satisfy her mind that all was well so that she could pursue the most pressing matter – transportation for her and Logan.

_Transportation. _Max made a face.

"You sure screwed up big-time, Max," she berated herself mentally yet again. "You shoulda come real that they'd jack his damn car."

She couldn't help but wonder if Zack would have made such a stupid mistake. She couldn't help but wonder how differently things would've gone if he'd hung around.

Max moved silently amongst the trees, dark eyes missing nothing. She thought the noise she'd heard had come from somewhere ahead of the van. She'd checked that area out earlier in the day when Logan had been changing his clothes and she'd found only forest. Still, it never hurt to be sure. Deftly avoiding any branches that reached out to scratch at her face, Max was almost convinced that she'd come far enough to breathe safely, when the sound of a car engine starting up startled the silence of the night.

Max's breathing stilled suddenly. With disbelief she stared ahead to where the trees made way…for a road.

_Can't anything go right?_ she fumed, wondering how fate had made her hide their van unwittingly so close to the winding, campground road and how it was that she'd failed to do a thorough recon the first time and realise her mistake.

Her eyes unerringly picked out the black SUV even as she heard the sound of muffled voices.

Instinctively, she looked behind to the forest where she knew Logan would be waiting in the hated van…impatiently…unprotected…in the dark.

It was amazing how tiny a light could pierce the blackness.

Max turned and ran.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Without the least bit of enthusiasm for his task, Logan let the flickering light trail over the roof of the VW van, thinking he'd kill for one of those super-duper, never fail, unbelievably wide-beamed flashlights that Mulder and Scully always had at hand.

His throat tightened as he recoiled instinctively.

"So the damned things come out at night," he muttered grittily, angry with himself for being so ridiculously jumpy, and feeling a rush of unreasoning anger towards the spiders for being the cause of it. There had to be at least four of the brown, furry, fat-bellied horrors lurking around the edges of the windshield…and those were just the ones that he could see.

Mental images of spiders running up and down his legs had him hurriedly sweeping the tiny flame over the rest of his body, reassuring himself as he did that it was highly unlikely that Poggs had died of a spider bite. That was what he'd told Max, wasn't it? Why was it, that in the light of day, this theory had sounded a whole lot more plausible, he wondered, as opposed to how it sounded now while sitting alone in the dark in a spider-infested van?

_What the hell do you know about South American spiders, anyway? _his mind added corrosively.

"That they look a whole lot better when they're dead," he answered it, vindictively flicking one from his leg, with a speed that would almost do justice to an X5. Wondering if this was the one that had bitten him, he quickly shone the lighter on the floor to see where it had landed.

No doubt about it – the damned thing was mocking him. Rather than scurrying away into the darkness, it waited brazenly no more than an inch away from his right foot, close to the door, as if daring him to do something. So he did.

Letting go of the lighter, he grabbed his right leg behind the knee and lifted, raising his foot high enough from the ground so that he could hover it over the unsuspecting arachnid. With a satisfied tightening of his lips, he let his foot drop to the floor of the van. "Let's see how you like that…" he'd started to mutter with satisfaction when his eye caught sight of Max at the driver's door, wrenching it open.

He didn't have a chance to ask her what was wrong.

"We got a 911!" she snapped, turning the key in the ignition. Looking out the windshield, Logan could clearly see the light of another vehicle just before his head jerked back with the abrupt movement of the van reversing.

Logan looked across at her disbelievingly and yelled above the screaming of gears, "Max, we couldn't outrun a five year old on his tricycle in this thing!"

"Logan, we got bad guys with guns headin' our way. You wanna diss the van, you might save it for some other time when this baby's not our only ticket outta here," Max retorted, swinging the wheel hard to turn the van around so that they could head back the way they came.

Logan opened his mouth to protest at the stupidity of what they were trying to do then just as quickly shut it. It wasn't as if he had any better ideas and this was hardly the time for an argument.

Max gave him a swift glance in between navigating her way out of their hidey-hole. Multi-tasking, she quickly assessed their situation, analysing which direction they should take. Out on the open road, Logan was right - they wouldn't have a chance. Here, though, amongst the trees, Max hoped that her superior eyesight and reflexes just might almost even their odds. "Put your seatbelt on…this is gonna be a bitch…and stay the hell away from the door," she added with sudden urgency, noticing that it was no longer tied shut. _Crap._

Logan grabbed both ends of his seatbelt, fumbling with them in the blackness of the cabin and the lurching of the van.

"You got that done?" Max's voice snapped at him in the darkness. She'd somehow managed to turn the van and Logan could hear the engine straining in its low gear as she pressed hard on the accelerator. Logan had a vague impression of dark shadows racing past his window, sometimes looming directly ahead of them as the old bus zigzagged its unwieldy way back through the forest.

"_Logan!"_

"Uh…yup," he got out distractedly, trying not to cringe as yet another branch did more damage to the impeccable paintwork. Turning in his seat he tried to see out the back. "Lights," he told Max succinctly as he turned back around, "still heading our way."

"These guys are really beginning to piss me off!" Max muttered under her breath as she shaved the bark off yet another tree. She'd been hoping for a bigger lead than the one she had. All too soon, she'd have to leave the relative safety of the forest…and then things might really get interesting. For several minutes, neither spoke as Max focussed on finding a way through the forest that would be difficult for the bigger SUV to follow.

A sudden lurch as they hit a ditch had Logan reaching forward to grab hold of the dashboard, quickly changing from his right to his left hand when his right one somehow refused to grip properly.

Max's eyes flickered in his direction again with a frown, her lips tightening as she concentrated on her driving skills.

Twisting in his seat again, Logan murmured, "I take it evasive driving skills were big on the Manticore curriculum." The lights were definitely further back this time.

"Oh, yeah. Big time," she agreed absently, thankful for the fact that parts of the forest had been cleared for campsites. An idea had been whirling in her brain for the last few moments.

"Logan, time t'make our move…"

Logan waited for her explanation, but all she said was, "If things get rough, you gotta hit the deck. Got it?"

"Max…" he immediately went to protest.

"These guys have got serious stuff, Logan. Your gun's a pea-shooter compared to what they might bring on."

"Ever heard of David and Goliath?"

"I don't remember Goliath having RPGs," Max told him bluntly.

Logan raised both brows at that. "_Rocket Grenade Launchers!_ What the hell have I got us into here, Max?" he asked with quiet incredulity.

Max didn't answer. Taking the van up a slight incline, she sharply turned right and Logan soon realised that they were no longer bumping over ruts but driving along the comparative smooth surface of the campground road.

"You got a plan?" Logan asked, trying to keep the tension from his voice.

"I got a few trick-ass moves up my sleeve, yet," Max finally assured him with her ever-present X5 confidence.

"You wanna share?"

"I'm gonna try to get these creeps off our back," she answered cryptically, her eyes darting to the fuel gauge. She was glad that Logan couldn't see in the dark. The needle had been sitting on 'E' for some time. She could only hope that it worked with the same kick-ass efficiency as the latch on Logan's door.

"Are we back out on the road?" Logan's voice interrupted her.

"Yep."

"_Max…"_

"I don't tell you how to do your cable hacks; you don't tell me how to escape and evade."

Logan held back a sigh and kept his mouth shut. She had a point. Pity that fact didn't stop the churning in his gut.

With a wary eye on the door, Logan tried to relax, taking his hand away from the dashboard, letting his weight rest fully once more against the seat.

How long was this chase gonna last? he wondered, finding that adrenalin rushes on empty stomachs weren't such a good thing. On the other hand, the longer they kept any RPGs away from the VW, the longer their chance of staying alive.

A thousand thoughts raced through Logan's mind – why the hell would these guys have RPGs to track down a girl with a guy in a wheelchair in a beat-up van? More to the point, why hadn't they used them yet? Logan supposed that they must have been within firing range any number of times in the last few minutes.

_Maybe someone would rather beat your head in like they did to Tex's_, was his next happy thought.

_Hmmm…hardly comforting._

Max stole a quick look at Logan's profile, sensing his attempts to relax. Without a doubt the comparative smoothness of the road was an easier ride for him, but she knew that all too soon they'd have to return to zigzagging through the trees. Just maybe…if their luck held…they'd lose their quarry…if they didn't run out of gas…if the van didn't die on them…if the RPGs stayed silent…if the clouds covered the moon…

Max winced. _Those aren't exactly what you'd call kick-ass odds, Max._

"I've seen worse."

"What?" Logan frowned at her in the darkness.

"Nothing." Her voice was curt. _He_ didn't have to know her doubts.

Max's eyes darted to the rear-view mirror - the road behind remained dark and empty.

How much time, she wondered, hastily sliding a damp hand along her thigh before returning it to the wheel. Maybe one more corner before she'd have to hit the forest dirt again. _Better give Logan the heads-up._

"Hang on, Logan. Things are gonna get bumpy again."

"_Max, this isn't gonna work."_

The certainty in his voice gnawed gratingly at her growing doubts. She didn't want to hear them verbalised.

"You gotta better plan?" she snapped, pushing her foot down even harder, desperate to use the advantage of a relatively smooth road to put as much distance as possible between the SUV and themselves. _Just a bit more time…_

Logan's sigh spoke volumes. _"Max, there's only **one** road outta here!"_

Max froze for a moment, then her eyes widened. _Stupid, stupid._ "Dammit. I shoulda thought of that before!"

Logan stared at her, wondering if he dare let even the tiniest sliver of hope lighten his mood until her, "Hang on tight!" had him reaching out with both hands to the dashboard to brace himself. Even then he nearly fell from his seat as the van swerved left, instead of right as he'd anticipated.

"Change of plan I take it?" he prompted loudly above the engine's roar.

"There's another road outta here," she informed him with great satisfaction, "And they'll never be able to follow us."

Logan frowned. "I didn't know there were any other roads by the river."

"There aren't."

"Then…?"

Logan suddenly felt himself go cold. _Did she mean what he thought she meant?_

Max flicked him a glance before sharply turning the wheel to dodge a huge oak tree. Her words were cool, persuasive...but hovering under the surface was a raw urgency. "We've gotta step to the real. This baby's running on empty. Those smartasses know we're jammed up. I bet they figure it's only a matter of time before they nail us…and they will. Logan, our luck isn't gonna hold."

Logan clutched at straws. "We ditch the van?" he suggested, hopefully.

He knew the answer even before he sensed her shake her head in the darkness.

"Even with me pushing you, we'd never move fast enough to get away from here." After a beat she added, "And I can't hide the wheel tracks from your chair."

Logan glanced behind. All he could see was an inky blackness. He felt trapped…no… he suddenly realised that what he felt was fear. He knew what she was hinting at.

"I can't swim that far," he stated quickly.

Max brushed his worry aside with typical Manticore confidence. "You don't have to. All you gotta do is hang on to me. Revved-up girl, remember?"

Logan stared outside, seeing nothing as a thousand doubts tore through his mind.

Max's voice cut through the cacophony of voices in his head. She sounded so unerringly, supremely confidant that for a moment he began to believe that just maybe this would all work.

"All we gotta do is let ourselves drift downstream. We get far enough away from here so that they can't follow us. Once we've done that, we find you a good hidey hole while I swing back and find your car."

Logan breathed out slowly. Max made it all sound so easy.

"The river should be dead ahead," she announced confidently, still pushing the van as hard as she dared. _Well, I hope it is, anyway_. She wished now that she'd done some recon in this area. She had no idea what to expect. They were well upstream now from the campsite where Poggs and the others had camped. She knew they'd have to deal with whatever they found, but for Logan's sake she hoped that the river in this area would be easily accessible for him. She hadn't failed to notice how quiet he'd become. His tension seemed to be radiating towards her in waves.

She quickly wiped her other damp hand along the thigh of her leg. _Where the hell was the riverbank?_

"I can't see it," Logan muttered, squinting through the windshield.

Max checked the rear-view mirror for what seemed like the hundredth time. Darkness.

"It's there," she insisted. "We probably just can't see it because of all this damned green stuff."

Logan twisted in his seat to look behind, briefly gripping the handhold on the door before he quickly thought better of it, when his world changed to a slow motion movie reel.

Max, who was still pushing the van as hard as she dared, saw an opening between two bushes and headed straight for it.

Her sudden scream to Logan of, "Hold on," rang with piercing clarity above the engine as Max raked the gears and swung the wheel hard left with everything she had.

Logan, turning with alarm to the front, had the fleeting chance to notice vaguely that they were no longer surrounded by trees, before the van yawed drunkenly as it tried to turn at an angle that was never intended by its designers.

Lips stretched taut, Max held fast to the wheel, willing the VW to respond.

She'd found the river with her usual efficiency. She'd nearly driven them straight into it – from a twenty-foot drop.

As soon as she'd broken through the trees, she'd seen the drop to the river. Feeling like not just her heart, but her lungs as well had jumped into her throat, she'd yanked instinctively on the wheel. She knew there was no way she'd be able to stop the van before the front wheels had disappeared over the edge if she simply tried to brake. She also knew that the VW van would be more than just pissy with the kind of treatment she was dishing out – she doubted very much if it could deal with it at all. What she didn't have time to assess was the fact that the vegetation that crowded impenetrably almost to the cliff's edge barely left a car enough width to pass.

Logan felt himself being inexorably drawn towards the now-swinging-wide passenger door as the van teetered precariously. With rapidly growing alarm he realised that the VW no longer sat on four wheels.

_We're going over,_ his mind yelled, as he frantically scrambled to find a better handhold.

He had a fleeting glimpse of black, black water somewhere below him through the open door as the van seemed to balance like a circus elephant, on both its right wheels.

Then, unpredictably, in mind-numbing slow motion, the old VW bus miraculously righted itself with a jarring lurch as all four wheels came back into contact with the ground.

Max swiftly braked as fast as safety would allow. Hemmed in by thick bushes on their left, she didn't dare move another inch in the van. She knew their two right wheels had to be teetering on the very edge of the cliff.

Logan let out a long, shaky breath, hardly daring to speak as he purposely kept his eyes averted from the dark water below him that he could see through his partially open door.

Max grinned across at him. "_Told you_ it was a supersonic bus."

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but his stomach had lurched with a cold, immobilising fear.

Max reacted without hesitation. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she reached across to Logan as the unstable edges of the sandy cliff top crumbled under the sudden, unaccustomed weight.

This time, gravity had its way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_No, Max!"_ Logan called frantically as he saw her unbuckle her seatbelt and move to his side. She'd be in as much danger as he was now.

"Shut up, Logan, and hang on," Max yelled back, grabbing him by the waist of his jeans, while she used her left hand to anchor herself to the steering wheel.

Logan flung out his arm, trying to brace himself against the doorway.

_This is not good._

He held his breath, pressed his lips together hard and tensed every muscle that he possibly could.

The first movement over the side had been slow, almost lazy but, as the engine stalled, the van kicked out like a bucking horse. The passenger door swung wide like a broken wing and Logan had a hazy glimpse of the danger waiting to greet him below. It wasn't going to be a soft landing.

Logan looked away and closed his eyes tight for the briefest of moments. The memory of trips to amusement parks with his cousins flickered crazily through his mind.

He'd never liked the rides. He'd always wondered what madman came up with the idea that it would be fun to dangle in the air and see the ground seemingly miles away. What nutcase had figured it would be a thrill being thrown upside down in a cage with only a few screws between him and a horribly quick plummet to the ground below?

He had a pretty good idea there'd be no one waiting at the end of this trip to ask him if he'd enjoyed his ride.

Then he heard Max's voice, unbelievably calm considering their situation. "Logan, hold fast. We're going down."

_Down_. Not a word he wanted to hear right now.

His left hand clutched tightly to his seat down by his leg, but already he could see both legs lifting, sliding as the van tipped further and further.

_Down…down…down._

Max held fast to Logan but, once the van slipped over the edge, she knew he was in trouble. The van was now slipping down the side of the cliff and Logan's legs were being dragged towards the open door.

Logan stared down through the doorway, his face setTime seemed to have slowed. He tried to brace himself, but he felt himself twisting in his seat as Max's grip dragged him further backwards. Hopelessly he waited for the final crunch, certain that, if nothing else, he was going to break both his legs.

He cringed…ready…ready…

The sound hit his senses first as the passenger door hit, then buckled as the weight of the van followed it to the ground, tearing it from its hinges.

Logan had stopped breathing. His legs would be the next things to strike the rocks.

Metal ground with finality to a shrieking halt. Logan had a vague impression of his body crumpling like cardboard…then nothing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Logan slowly returned through a blanketing dark fog. He grimaced, wondering hazily why his neck was at such an odd angle. Almost before the question was completely framed in his mind, the events of the previous few moments came crashing back and his eyes flew open. _"Max."_

Dazed, lying on his back and surprised somewhere at the back of his mind that he seemed to be more or less in one piece, his hands probed uncertainly in the darkness.

"Max!" he called to her urgently, only to repeat the word with a mixture of uncertainty and relief as he realised the weight resting on his chest was her head.

His hands searched further, finding strands of silky hair covering closed eyes.

A soft groan had him letting out a sharp breath of double relief. "Thank God," he murmured, never having meant the words more than he did that moment.

Logan drew in a long, shaky breath. His relief that she was alive meant that he could focus on their situation and look for some means of escape. That's what he told himself in the gloom, anyway, as he tried to make sense of their current situation despite the hammering in his head.

Even in the dark, he could see that things weren't good.

The hated VW van was well and truly trashed but at the moment he couldn't take much satisfaction from the fact.

He knew the van had landed hard. It was only a testimony to its indestructible tendencies that the crate was still more or less in one piece.

Slowly, his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. He could just make out Max's head resting on his chest by raising his head a little. It bothered him that she was so still. "No bragging this time, Max, about how well X5s recover?" he asked with some regret.

Getting no response, he lifted his head a little higher, realising as he did so that something uncomfortably hard had been digging into the back of his skull.

From what he could gather, he was lying more or less in the now open doorway, legs crammed awkwardly, half bent, in the narrow space. Who knew what had happened to his passenger-side door. He cursed the darkness - it was just too difficult to make sense of anything…or maybe it was because of the ringing in his head.

Groggily he put a hand to the back of his head, gently touching the area where it throbbed. His alarm grew when his fingers came away wet

_Blood? _

No, that didn't seem right.

_Water?_

This time his hands felt either side of his body.

No doubt about it; he was lying half-submerged in icy cold river water.

_Strange. _

The thought crossed his mind that he really should have noticed the water pooling around his body well before this.

He took a deep breath, briefly letting his head loll back to give his neck some relief.

_Water, water, everywhere…_

Logan's eyes snapped open as he realised his mind had been drifting…dreamily floating away to who knew where.

His left hand felt for his glasses. Yes, they were still there. Then how come everything seemed so intangible…so disturbingly surreal? It was as if his mind couldn't process the things his eyes were seeing.

Bracingly, he told himself, _You're not dead. Max isn't dead. That's good…right?_

A surge of hope flickered through him when he heard Max softly groan again and he felt her head move but there was no sign of a complete return to consciousness.

Using his hands to explore again, he felt around in the dark, determined to take an analytical stock of his situation. He was definitely lying in a few inches of water; beneath his shoulders he could feel a mixture of what seemed to be rocks and sand. When he looked up, he could see Max's door closed shut above his head.

He had no idea what shape his legs were in but, at least, miraculously, they hadn't been crushed when the van hit the rocks. He hazily remembered that he had Max to thank for that. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, was an image of her grabbing hold of them at the very last second. He winced at the thought, putting a reassuring hand to her head. He didn't like to think that she'd been hurt for his sake.

He and Max had slipped completely off the seat thanks to his seatbelt proving to be next to useless in an emergency and Max having undone hers.

A gurgling sound in the uncanny quiet of the upturned van quieted his thoughts. Was it his imagination or had the water level risen since he'd first noticed it?

Scrambling for a handhold, he grabbed the side of the upturned seat, his right hand beneath him, and strained to pull himself into a sitting position, careful to make sure that Max's head rested on his lap, well above the water level.

He wondered dryly if Manticore rescue scenarios covered one like their predicament. He wondered when she'd wake up. He wondered _if_ she'd wake up. He wondered why everything in front of him seemed to be swaying.

He didn't know how long he sat there with his senses doing crazy things but eventually it penetrated his mind that it wasn't nearly as dark as it had been.

Logan closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths. This was not the time to be passing out, not if he was right about the water level increasing.

_Start thinking, Logan_, he told himself sharply. A slight movement from the head on his lap raised his hopes. "Max," he called to her, the seriousness of their situation lending an undisguised note of urgency to the word. When she didn't respond he tried scooping a bit of water onto her face with his right hand. He thought he saw her eyes flicker but he let out a grunt of exasperation when there was no other response.

He could still hear the gurgling sound of water moving, pooling, forcing its way into the car. It was now noticeably nearer the dark head on his lap. Logan could feel the first stirrings of something close to panic rising in his throat. He had to change Max's position, get her higher somehow.

He quickly changed his handhold, getting a firmer grip on the overturned seat with his left hand, then leaned across her shoulder and hooked his right hand under her arm. "Come on, Max," he muttered, as he tried to haul her into a sitting position, arm and back straining to take her weight. He tugged at her inert form as long as he could before he had to let go and give his arm a rest, letting go an oath of frustration when he saw for all his efforts she'd hardly moved.

He let his head tilt back and eyes close for a moment, but the continual faint gurgling of water wouldn't let him relax. Anxiously he checked the level again with his hand. Max's hair was now noticeably wet and those parts of his legs which lay more or less flat were almost totally submerged.

He grabbed at Max again, his racing mind trying to work out how deep the river was likely to be at this point. He knew the water would force its way in until it reached the river's depth but he had no idea what the river was like this far upstream.

Logan looked above his head.The only way out of the van would be through the driver's door that presently faced skywards, he realised, as he grunted with the effort of raising Max.

This time when he stopped he was breathing hard but at least Max's head now rested more or less against his hip and that bought him some time. Time for what? his mind taunted him.

"Time for us to get outta here," he informed it determinedly but the last word died a sudden death. _Someone was moving outside the van._

Logan could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he waited in silence, every other part of him perfectly still as his mind fired a thousand scenarios at him.

_What would they do to them…a burst of gunfire? Maybe they'd just hold his head under the water – much simpler…who'd suspect a natural drowning? _The most galling aspect of all this was that he didn't even know what they were dying for – nothing more than an altruistic desire to give some meaning to a drop-out med student's death. Had it been worth his life – even worse, _Max's life?_

His grip tightened on her protectively as he stared out through the shattered windshield. The distortion made it impossible to discern anything else other than the vague outline of at least one pair of legs.

Logan's face showed nothing of his inner turmoil as he heard the unmistakeable sounds of someone climbing onto the van. His expression didn't change when he heard the sound of the driver's door being wrenched open and he could clearly see a hand holding a gun. Mesmerised, his eyes locked on the now open space above his head, Logan waited…and finally his expression changed to one of surprise.

Logan could hardly recognise the voice, but he was sure that it was him that had uttered the word.

"_Zack?"_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_To be continued…_


End file.
